The Vampire Prince
by redhead evans
Summary: When Harry gets rescued from a Death Eater attack by a group of vampires sent to bring them to their queen how far is he willing to go to defeat Voldemort? AU! Chapter 18 up! 7/31/11
1. The Vampire Covens

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 1: The Vampire Covens

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Any transition serious enough to alter your definition of self will require not just small adjustments in your way of living and thinking but a full-on metamorphosis.

~Martha Beck

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Harry Potter pressed himself flat against the wall, thanking the gods for his seeker built reflexes, as his cousin threw the door open and ran inside in typical rampaging hippogriff fashion. Harry had slipped out the door before it had fully hit the opposite wall, knowing that his Aunt and Uncle wouldn't, or couldn't, accuse him of slamming the door on his way out. He started on the now familiar route to the park, appreciating the way the setting sun lengthened the shadows and played with the colors on the houses of Privet Drive. In normal daylight these houses were typical of any suburbia, starkly similar in addition to their unnerving tidiness, but the setting sun transformed them into a normal array of colors, utterly transforming them from the uniform shapes that they had been. Everyone on Privet Drive loved normal, he thought ruefully, and if there was one thing that Harry Potter was not it was normal.

Harry was a seventeen-year-old wizard, orphaned at age one when a Dark Wizard had killed his parents. It was because of that night he had been transformed from normal to abnormal, even among the abnormal wizarding world. He felt eyes watching him and did his best to ignore him, knowing that these eyes belonged to his "watchers", the group of people who deemed it their responsibility to baby-sit him and protect him in the eventuality of an attack. Harry Potter was a wanted man, wanted by that same Dark Wizard who had killed his parents because he had lived through an unsurvivable and unblockable curse and he continued to escape unscathed on an annual basis since he turned eleven. But now Harry had his own wanted list and Voldemort took the top spot.

Voldemort's murders had taken even more people from his life than just his parents, his godfather Sirius Black had been killed in a duel against one of Voldemort's Death Eaters year before last and Harry was sure many more would follow.

He sat down gingerly on the only swing that has survived intact after years of mistreatment from his cousin and his gang and stared out over the grass absentmindedly. He noticed the rustle of leaves that said that his minders, although invisible, had resorted to hiding in the bushes, and did his best to ignore it as he let his thoughts wander. However, the hair on the back of his neck prickling pulled him from his thoughts rather quickly after that, and he turned his head quickly to see, with a sinking sense of dread now settling in the pit of his stomach, a group of black-robed white-masked wizards striding boldly down the street towards him. Death Eaters.

He stood quickly, spinning to face his enemy while drawing his wand from his back pocket and whispering a loud warning to his guard. As he did so the memory of Mad-Eye Moody telling him not to keep his wand in his back pocket so that he didn't blow his buttocks off nearly made him laugh, but he was quickly sobered by the loud curse from the bushes, cut off so suddenly that Harry suspected they had had a hand clapped over their mouth, and then silence. The group of Death Eaters had reached the edge of the sandbox.

"Come with us, Potter, and we promise not to hurt you," a female voice that Harry recognized as belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange, the escaped convict who had killed Sirius. Ironically, Bellatrix was also Sirius' cousin.

"Somehow I highly doubt that, Bella," Harry said boldly, staring directly at the robed figure he knew to be her. "If you don't hurt me now you certainly will later."

Bellatrix reeled back like she had been struck. "You dare to insult my honor?" she shrieked.

"It's nothing that hasn't been done before," Harry replied, shocking himself with his audacity.

"You are lucky that my master ordered you alive, Potter," she spat. "Others have lost their lives for less."

Another black-robed figure stepped forward and put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Lucius suggests that we knock some sense into you," she called after a moment of whispered conference. "I can't help but agree. I've found that nothing loosens a person's resolve better than a dose of the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry was willing to bet everything he owned that she had found that out through personal experience although he didn't have the time to say so. Bellatrix's wand had come up, the words had fallen from her lips easily, and the jet of red light was working its way towards him with agonizing slowness. Unable to do anything to stop it, he closed his eyes and let the spell hit him, bracing himself for the horrible pain that would follow.

He wasn't disappointed as, seconds later, he was forced to his knees by the horrible pain that ran like fire through his veins, contracting his muscles painfully, and attempting to contort his frame into a different shape. It was all he could do to keep from screaming and to keep from hitting the ground fully, letting the curse do with his limbs as it willed. After what felt like an eternity, it was lifted, and Harry found himself kneeling, panting like he's just run a marathon.

"How was that, baby Potter?" Bellatrix asked in a baby voice, the same that she had used when tormenting him at the Department of Mysteries, the same day she had killed Sirius. The anger from that memory was enough fuel to help him to his feet, his wand back in his hand. "Now don't go doing anything stupid, baby Potter. Bad children are punished, and I'd hate to have to punish you. Be a good boy and drop your wand," she ordered. Harry allowed himself a brief glance towards the bushes where he had last seen his watchers, but of course they were either not there or still hidden. He briefly wondered if they were allowed to just sit by and watch as he got tortured until he gave up his wand. He couldn't hope to fight all of these Death Eaters by himself, and if they weren't going to help him out then he would either have to give it up or die trying not to. Fat help the lot in the bushes were.

"Keep your wand, kid," said someone at the back of the Death Eater ranks. As a unit, Bellatrix and Lucius turned, wands raised threateningly, to deal with the dissenter. They found a bunch of puzzled Death Eaters.

"Who said that?" Malfoy demanded. There was a brief pause, and then the Death Eaters were all thrown violently to the floor, causing an odd wave from the back of the group to the front, until it was just Malfoy and Lestrange standing, along with another man who was wearing red instead of Death Eater black. It didn't even look as if he had moved, but the Death Eaters out cold on the ground spoke differently.

"Who are you?" Bellatrix shrieked.

"Not a friend," the man replied calmly, tugging once on his jacket, where a crest was embroidered. She must have recognized it, because she recoiled. Lucius, however, remained confused. "You'll want to be letting the kid go," the man drawled casually.

"Not a chance," Malfoy spat, brandishing his wand and starting a spell. He barely managed to utter the first syllable before he was on his knees, his arm being bent upwards at an impossible angle with what seemed like very little effort on the part of the newcomer, who had moved so fast that Harry hadn't seen how he had managed to get the wand that had been in Lucius' now-open palm to where it now laid.

"Let him go," Bellatrix ordered angrily, but she made no move to help her fellow Death Eater aside from that.

"I don't think so," the man said. Bellatrix's wand arm spasmed, as if she had decided to curse the man but then thought better of it. "Good girl," he said with an infuriatingly calm smile. Bellatrix spat at him, but he just laughed. "Oh we're going to have so much fun," he said happily. "Get him out of here," he ordered to an empty space near Harry.

Harry was momentarily confused, but then another man was in the previously empty space and was moving towards him. Harry noticed that he was wearing the same outfit as the other man, but didn't have much time to examine the insignia on the jacket because the man was reaching for him.

"Hey!" Harry said, evading the man's grasp. The man gave an exasperated sigh.

"I'm a friend, now let me get you out of here," he said, holding out a hand invitingly.

"Who are you?" Harry wanted to know cautiously.

"I told you, friends. I work for someone who has been wanting to meet you," he said. Harry's mistrust of the man grew. "You'll be returned here after you two have talked if you want to, don't worry," he coaxed. Harry couldn't see the catch in the offer, and Bellatrix looked as if she didn't have the balls to do anything to prevent him from leaving, although the man hadn't touched her yet, concentrated as he was on making Lucius bend to keep from having his shoulder dislocated.

Harry put his hand in the man's extended hand, having only the time to notice that he had firmly calloused hands before he was being pulled closer to the man. Instantly, Harry dug in his heels, but with one more tug and what seemed like fairly little effort he had been pulled the two steps that were between him and the stranger so that he was no flush with the man's side, and then he was caught up in the squeezing feeling of side-along apparation.

Unable to help it, possibly due to the fact that he had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse not too long ago, just as the squeezing feeling became nearly unbearable, the point where Harry knew that they would be appearing wherever the man was taking him within seconds, the world went black. He arrived in a good-sized room, the stone walls covered with red and black tapestries bearing the same symbol that was on the jackets, out cold.

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Harry awoke to strange voices, talking in hushed, concerned whispers and concluded that he must be in the hospital wing, once again. That is, until he heard what they were saying.

"Will he be called before the queen?"

"I would say he probably will," a second voice replied. "Loads of good that will do him. He couldn't even survive getting here."

"She must have sent after him for a reason; this boy must be important to her." The second person made a disbelieving noise. "From what I hear," the first voice said, "he was doing pretty well against the Death Eaters."

Harry thought that this was exaggerating things a bit.

Apparently, so did the second person. "Most Death eaters are idiots who can barely curse the broad side of a barn let alone a skinny kid like this one."

"Bellatrix Lestrange was leading them. I hear he was hit with one of her Cruciatus Curses, too."

"Then maybe he's up for it," the second said, a bit dubiously, probably wondering, as Harry was, how the first judged doing 'fairly well' in a fight. Most would not consider getting hit with an Unforgivable doing 'fairly well'.

"Is he up yet?" a third voice asked in a commanding tone.

"Yes sir," came the reply. "Listening in on our conversation and everything."

"Good," said the third, "Open your eyes and be quick about it," he commanded Harry. "You've an audience with the queen."

Harry opened his heavy eyelids and blinked the world back into focus. He looked up to see the first man from the park standing over him, holding his glasses out to him, and smiling slightly. Harry grabbed his glasses and shoved them on his face, taking the man's proffered hand and, with some help, was soon on his feet. He felt the burning need to ask where he was, and whom he was going to meet, since he was quite sure that the man wasn't talking about the Queen of England, and if he hadn't been so sure, the décor would have helped to convince him. However, he held his tongue, with effort, remembering how effortlessly the man had put a stop to the Death Eaters. Instead he settled for watching his surroundings closely as he was slowly escorted through enough twisting passages filled with red and black tapestries, and the occasional liveried guard. He quickly lost his sense of direction and was trying to figure out just where he was, or in what direction they were walking when they reached a set of doors with guards dressed in red and black livery blocking entrance. The man made a small hand motion and, with a prompt salute, the guards threw the doors open.

It was a throne room, a red carpet set over the flagstones that led straight to the base of the throne, raised on a small dais. Flickering torches, set into ornate wall sconces, that cast an eerie light over the largely red and gray room, lit the room. The queen, if that was who she was, and she most certainly wasn't the Queen of England, was seated on the throne, resplendent in a blood red gown with ruby accessories. Her long and curly brunette locks were caught up in an elegantly crafted silver diadem. She seemed not to have noticed their entrance; she was still laughing at something the man kneeling near the base of the dais had just said. A man standing behind the throne leaned over to whisper in her ear, presumably to alert her to their presence. She took only one glance their way, a hard and piercing look that seemed to go straight through Harry, before turning back to her companion. He stood, saluted, and left the room with a respectful 'my queen'.

Harry and his escort had stopped before the throne, the escort kneeling to the woman on the throne, hitting the back of Harry's knees to make him do the same, but the woman seemed to take no more notice of them.

"Narit," she said, obviously a summons.

"Yes, my queen?" the man besides Harry asked.

"Find Carald and remind him that I want him to call a strategy meeting together sometime in the next few days. I believe that we will have much to discuss."

"Yes my queen." Narit bowed and started to stand.

"I want you to sit in on it as well, Narit," she informed him.

"Thank you, my queen," he said promptly and left the room, leaving Harry kneeling all by himself before the throne.

"I hope that you aren't kneeling for my sake, Mr. Potter," she said eventually, a smile playing around her lips that would have told someone who knew her better that she knew perfectly well why he was kneeling. Harry got up slowly, taking his time in standing and withholding any reply, using the time to get a good look at the surroundings. "I'm sure you have many questions, like where you are, who I am, how we knew where to find you, and how we know where you are. I'll start with location. I can't quite tell you specifics, but you're in a secure location in a rural part of England. As to who you are, well, you're quite distinctive and I don't think many people in our world don't know who you are. It took some searching to find you, but I'm very powerful and I have people in a lot of places, so it wasn't as difficult as you might think. And lastly, my name is Celdere, and I am Queen of the Vampires." Harry's face must have only registered shock and horror at the fact that he was in a den of vampires because she gave an exasperated sigh and said, "They did not tell you." It wasn't a question.

She looked at him steadily for a moment, as if waiting for him to run from her, but Harry, who wanted to run screaming almost as badly as he needed to breathe, quelled the impulse on the grounds of idiocy and forced himself to meet her gaze. Celdere game him a smile, though what emotion was behind it Harry couldn't tell. He was starting to curse everyone he could think of for throwing first Death Eaters and then vampires at him in the same day.

"I have a proposition for you Mr. Potter," Celdere began, with little preamble. "It is well known among the vampires, if not the rest of the world, that you are destined to save the world from the destruction the Voldemort would bring to it. I fear that the only way to do that is to kill him," she said with a tight smile that bared her canines, which were more pointed than a normal human's but not enlarged. Harry swallowed hard. "I don't know what they teach you in school these days but, contrary to popular belief, vampires are not evil creatures by nature. We do, of course, have our fair share of evildoers amongst us, but the same can be said for any race. However, in the coven crimes are punished swiftly and harshly, but that doesn't always dissuade people from breaking rules. As with anything, if they think the benefit is worth more than the cost, they will do whatever it is and screw the consequences. With Voldemort spreading his ideas of purity around, many vampires are flocking to his side and supporting him, and I will not have that happen," she said sharply, and Harry could see that the issue made her upset, as she claimed. "His quest for purity among humans appeals to our sense of pride," she admitted, in a way that suggested that she wasn't pleased to have this be true. "Most vampires consider themselves better than the human race, and consider our turning to be nothing more than an upgrade to a better model. By joining with Voldemort, they help out a little bit to have him do a third of the work. Not only do I not agree with their logic, but also as a leader I refuse to allow my nation to be split in two.

"As it stands, I'm perfectly willing to continue to resist Voldemort and gain control of the Resistance on my own, but I see an easier way to accomplish a unity of sorts. It is my belief that by clearly and unequivocally aligning the vampires with the light side that I can convince a portion of the Resistance back onto my side of things. The rest I will deal with on my own. However, I also know that those who would be switching their allegiances back, would only do so if led by a vampire, and none of you on the light side are. Even if one of you were, I'm not sure they would settle for a pawn. I want the King, and that King has to be a vampire. That King is you.

"What I would like to propose a truce between you and I that would bind all vampires. In exchange for letting me turn you, I am willing to offer you and the rest of Dumbledore's group any resources, weapons or manpower that you might need in the fight against Voldemort. In addition, I will take it upon myself to provide you a more complete education in the art of combat and vampire politics and diplomacy. In order for this to work as I want it to work, it has to be you, and you have to become a Prince, which means it will be me who turns you. I haven't turned a mortal in over 2,000 years and even in the several millennia before that I did not turn mortals lightly. You would become the heir to my throne, and you would have input on the actions of my military and diplomats. I also realize that I can ask nothing more of you than your efforts, and your mortality."

Harry was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open and promptly shut it, the sharp click of his teeth hitting each other echoing in the quiet room. He was getting the feeling that Celdere hadn't consulted her advisors about this based on the shocked looks on their faces although none of them seemed truly opposed to the idea. But his friends might be another matter entirely.

He was sure that Ron would hate him for this and that he would only find it another reason to be jealous of him. Hermione on the other hand might think it was okay as long as she hadn't read anything bad about vampires. They would both understand that he needed to do this, that he needed to defeat Voldemort whatever the cost. If they didn't then they weren't true friends.

He realized that he was thinking as if he was going to agree, and before he could question his motives, he realized that he had. He had to try. Anything to get an edge over Voldemort, or he wouldn't last a few seconds.

"I'll do it," he said, looking Celdere in the eye. She nodded at him with an unreadable look on her face.

"Morgan, summon the necessary people for the rite," she commanded. A woman stepped from the shadows in response to the words, gave a bow and left.

"Err… just what kind of rite will this be?" he asked nervously, not having thought that far ahead yet.

"I will nearly drain you of your blood and then offer you mine, making you a vampire. Once you recover I will start the ceremony to give you the right to take my throne should I abdicate or die. Then we will start your training."

"Okay," Harry said, not thrilled with the concept of getting the blood drained out of him. He wasn't sure how he had thought he would get turned into a vampire, but it had been a lot less gruesome in his head.

"If you will follow me into the ritual room we can get started now." She stood and swept from the room, with the rest of the court waiting respectfully for him to follow her before coming up close on his heels as Celdere led them through more winding passages (this place seemed to be full of them) until the reached plain wooden doors that swung open to reveal a circular room with stone bleachers ser up around the perimeter, reminding Harry of the courtroom he had seen in Dumbledore's pensive, and been tried in his 5th year, in the Ministry of Magic. It was completely devoid of any color and decorations but Harry guessed it would soon be full of red. That thought made him see the wisdom of the lack of decoration.

He walked into the center of the room and looked around awkwardly as the rest of the court formed a circle around them, forgoing the bleachers.

"What do I do?" he asked as Celdere took her place in front of him.

"Wrist," she said, holding out her hand expectantly. Harry gave her his hand hesitantly only to have it wrenched closer to her mouth. She opened her mouth, Harry was shocked to see her canines enlarging visibly, and bit into his arm with no warning or preamble and started drawing blood out of his veins, while the vampires around him look on with interested, yet apathetic, looks. He felt himself stagger from the sudden loss of blood, only to hit the floor moments later, something that didn't seem to bother Celdere, who only followed him to the ground gracefully without letting his collapse distract her. Just when he was about to faint he dimly saw her thrust her own wrist, bleeding profusely, in front of his mouth. Harry realized, his thoughts coming sluggishly and in a way that made them seem oddly disconnected from reality, that she must have cut it open herself before an overwhelming bloodlust came over him and he started feeding from her wrist, feeling himself gain strength with every mouthful of blood that he took in. He was so removed from himself that he couldn't even feel disgust and horror over his actions.

At some point Celdere wrestled her wrist from his grasp, an action that he greatly protested, and stood. Harry's last image was of her standing majestically over him, ignoring the blood dripping from her wrist, before Harry's world went black for the second time that day.

He came awake with a groan to find a vampire standing over him, and a headache large enough to make him wish he hadn't even opened his eyes.

"How do you feel?" the vampire asked with a tinge of concern.

"Like I got hit by a truck," Harry answered truthfully. He took in his surroundings. They hadn't moved him from where he fell although someone had taken the time to put a cushioning charm on the stone floor. His wrist had dried blood on it still but the puncture wounds seemed to be completely healed. He assumed that the same went for Celdere's wrist although the amount of blood that she had lost before she closed it up was amazing, coating the floor liberally and giving the room a spooky atmosphere.

"Here," the man said, handing a goblet filled to the brim with a dark liquid, "drink this."

Harry did as he was told, lifting the cup to his lips only to catch a whiff of blood. He paused.

"Go on," the man urged. "You'll like it once you taste it anyway. It's laced with a strengthening potion so I would drink it before you have to undergo the next ritual, you'll need your strength for that." Harry quickly gulped the blood down, feeling the strengthening potion work instantly, and trying not to think about what exactly it was he was doing.

"What will they do for that?" he asked.

"Well, there's some blood sharing involved. Basically you take some of Celdere's and then give some to pretty much everyone else there. There's a right of initiation that I can't tell you about, it won't kill you but you won't really like the idea either. Then you get the tribe tattoos, which you needed to get anyway. You get a mark that says that you're Celdere's childe, another that says you belong to this branch of the coven, and another one that says you are a vampire prince. Then you don the robes of state, look at yourself in the mirror so that you get to see what a god awful mess you are, probably so that you get used to the idea that being a vampire prince isn't easy, and then everyone recognizes you as a prince of the realm. Training starts tomorrow."

"Training in what?"

"The works," the man said with a shrug. "A bit of diplomacy, a bit of magic, a bit of weapons, a bit of potions, a bit of fitness, a bit of hunting and tracking, a bit about languages, and a bit about hiding yourself and your activities. Probably there'll be a bit of stuff on wards as well."

"I need to learn all that in one summer?"

"Pretty much. They have some enhancement potions for you to take, those should help, and your new vampiric hours means that you have more time to spend awake and training, the new physical attributes means that you shouldn't have to work as hard to master fitness and your instincts are sharper now so most of it should come more naturally."

Despite his reassurances, Harry wasn't so thrilled about the new training schedule. Celdere chose that moment to come sweeping back into the chambers with an even fuller retinue than before. Harry stood nervously and went, as directed, to a place in the center of the room while the others shuffled in around them to take seats on the bleachers, taking seats that seemed to be based on some sort of ranking.

"Undress," Celdere prompted, sounding a like she was in a bit of a hurry. Harry's mind had ceased to work at that point and he couldn't quite bring himself to care much about it.

"Wha-wha-what?" he stuttered, alternately blushing and blanching. Celdere just raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and, with a lot of fumbling, and some more blushing, he stood before the others. Harry could feel the heat spreading from his face down his neck at a rapid pace and started desperately wishing for the whole thing to be over soon.

The man from before was at his shoulder and Harry avoided his eye even though he was grateful for something to occupy his mind other than the fact that he was starkers in a room full of strangers.

"First they'll bleed you," the man was saying, "and then they'll ink you. They cut runes into you that stand for things like wisdom, justice, strength, all that jazz, then they give you the tattoos. No big, just relax."

Harry refrained from laughing out loud as the tension built but decided against it when Celdere pulled out a wicked looking knife and held it out to one of the newcomers, who rose from their seat to take the knife from her with a bow, and instantly moved towards Harry. The first few slices hurt a lot, and Harry wasn't sure if Bellatrix's Cruciatus Curse was better or worse than this pain, because they were so different. He was so wrapped up in this line of wonderings that it took him a while to notice that the cuts weren't hurting anymore, even if they were bleeding enough to fill the Hogwarts Lake, and he was able to look, as though detached from his own body, out at the room without feeling anything near embarrassment as the runes were cut into his skin. The tattoos were done the old fashioned way, without a modern tattoo gun but instead with a stick with prongs set closely together, but the ink was magically shifting colors as it tried to latch onto his magical pattern. It seemed like no time had passed at all, and yet contrastingly an eternity later when someone took a robe and draped it over his shoulders.

"I would like to introduce you to Harry Potter, Prince of the Vampires," Celdere said, prompting a loud cheer and several bows.

Slowly but surely the crowd disappeared, leaving only Celdere and Harry in the room.

"I hope that I can take the liberty of calling you Harry, now that you are officially my childe and heir." He nodded stiffly. "Harry," she continued, "this is Morgan VanPraet." A woman stepped from the shadows and bowed to him, her expression unreadable as a curtain of raven hair hid her face. Harry recognized her as the same person whom Celdere had sent to gather people for his turning ceremony. "She is to be everything to you, your assistant, your friend, and your teacher in every area. I hope that she will serve you well." She turned to Morgan. "I give you my heir, make him good," she said with a smile at the woman, who bowed, before sweeping out of the room and leaving Harry and Morgan alone.

Harry took the moment of silence to study the other woman. She was slightly taller than he was, pale and thin but obviously strong. She carried herself with the cat-like grace associated with warriors and Harry could see the knife that hung from her waist. She gave him a tight smile.

"I'm Morgan," she said, re-introducing herself with a bow.

"You don't have to bow," Harry interjected quickly, not liking the idea of having her treat him like he was special, although he figured that, now, he was.

"It's Vampire protocol, my prince," she said stiffly.

"Well, I'm new here but you don't have to do stuff like that," he said, the servility getting on his nerves.

"My prince," she started in a lecturing tone, "My job is to teach you Vampire customs and the best way for me to do so is to follow them to the letter myself."

"I'm not any better than you," Harry said angrily. "In fact, I'm worse than you are. You're teaching me, you shouldn't have to report to me at the same time. I'll make a deal with you," he said after a moment of tense silence. "We'll keep it casual when there isn't anybody else around. You can call me titles and stuff for show only; otherwise you call me Harry. When you teach me you are in charge and I'm just a student. Got it?"

She sighed. "Alright, Harry," she said, trying the word out on her tongue and obviously not liking it.

"Good," he said, satisfied with her response. "What do we get started on first?"

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	2. Back at Hogwarts

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 2: Back At Hogwarts

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The great aim of education is not knowledge but action.

~Herbert Spencer

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The end of summer found Harry packing, somewhat frantically, for the school year, in a small panic about every aspect of going to school that year, from supplies to entourage.

"Morgan is coming with me, right?" Harry asked Celdere, who had seated herself comfortably on the bed and was watching her 'son' pack with amusement. During the summer the two of them had grown much closer than they had been in the beginning of things, and she had turned out to be a very different person than he had originally thought. Though the queen was updated daily as to his progress in the various arenas that he was being trained in, Celdere made it a point to stop in on one or more of his lessons every day, occasionally as a spectator and occasionally as a participant, depending on the time she had to devote to his lessons each day. She also made a point to be with him at dinner, if not at every other meal, and cleared her busy schedule once every so often so that they could have a bit of free time together. This time had been most memorably spent, in Harry's opinion, gathering supplies for the upcoming school year. The trips to Diagon Alley meant that he had to wear a disguise charm, but the hassle of pretending not to be himself was both entertaining, enlightening, and good training for any undercover work that he would have to do ever. It was also one of the few times that Harry got to see the sun: all of the vampire attributes strengthened with age, and out of courtesy to those vampires old enough to not want to go for a mid-afternoon stroll, the castle in which he had taken residence was kept shielded from the sun's rays. The charm enhanced candles that were in abundance helped make up for the loss of light. Of course, that was more of a precaution than anything, and a concession to those vampires who didn't change with the times. Nowadays, most vampires who needed to used a spell to deflect the sun's rays and ended up no worse for the wear when using it in short bursts. It wouldn't hold up all day long, but it was good for an hour or two. The bloodlust was another thing that grew with age, thankfully for Harry who would have had a hard time explaining that to his friends. He would always be able to eat real food and drink real drinks, but as he aged he would simply stop wanting to eat real food or drink and instead replace it with blood. Celdere, for example, ate fairly normally at meals, the only concession being that she drank a goblet full of blood and any meat she ate was very rare.

"Of course she is, Harry," Celdere said in response to his question, obviously amused by his anxiety. "I'm not sure how she will be fitting in, or not fitting in as the case may be, but she will be with you. She will meet you on the train shortly before it leaves for Hogwarts; she has some arrangements to take care of before she can leave with you."

"Did you talk to Dumbledore about where I've been for the summer?" Harry asked anxiously. One of the things he had learned was that the vampire who had taken care of Malfoy and Bellatrix had informed his guard (who had still been in the bushes) that Harry was safe where he was going, not to look for him, and that he would be on the train come September first. Celdere and Morgan had both agreed that it would be best if Dumbledore knew that there were going to be two vampires in his castle, just in case something did go horribly awry.

"That is one of Morgan's jobs," Celdere replied. "It's a bit too sensitive for you to be dealing with but it will be dealt with."

"Do you think that he'll tell the Order?"

"That's part of the reason its sensitive. She will be casting a modified _obliviate_ on the Headmaster. Every time he goes to tell someone about your secret, he'll forget it. After a while has passed he'll remember it again. It can't be pensieve transferred, or susceptible to Legilimency. I'd imagine, with all the limitations being placed on him, all he'll be able to tell him is that you were with new allies hidden away for your safety and to get some training. It's true enough, anyway, even if it wasn't his idea. Why are you so anxious?" she wanted to know.

"I…. Err…. I haven't told my friends," Harry said, "And I'm pretty sure they'll freak when I tell them. And even if I don't tell them, at least one will figure it out and tell the others. Hermione's the smartest witch of her age but she may be a little close-minded depending on what she's heard about vampires in terms of them being dark creatures. She tends to see things by the book although she doesn't trust the ministry propaganda they've been trying to spread. My other friend, Ron, is the one I'm worried about. He comes from a pureblood family and vampires have been Dark creatures for ages so that might not work out. Even if it did he's really jealous about my fame, putting aside how I got it; the moment he found out I was a prince he'd freak. If it turns out that they're going to hate me for this it would be nice to have another vampire with me. Between the two of us I'm sure that we could take on the entire school."

"What makes you so sure that Hermione will figure it out?" Celdere wanted to know, curiosity piqued.

Harry shrugged. "After seeing Hermione in action, how could I not be sure? She would notice that I know way more magic than I should. You guys taught me most of the seventh year curriculum plus most of the Auror's Training Academy curriculum plus most of the stuff right out of A Death Eater's Guide to Magic. Or she'll notice that my dueling is better because of the new spell I've been taught plus the wandless casting, wordless spells and the martial arts training. She's bound to notice that I handle myself better and with more confidence and diplomacy. Its really only a matter of time before she asks me something about this summer, and only a matter of time before she adds together a few more things about my appearance to equal vampire." He looked around the room, feeling suddenly awkward. "How am I getting to King's Cross?" he asked to change the subject.

"A limo, you'll need the space it provides to allow the guys I've assigned to work on your appearance to do their work properly. Your classmates won't need to guess anything if you come back looking as you do now. They'll be putting you back to how you should have looked without the vampire influence, and the spells will be set to slowly fade away so that hopefully by Christmas you'll be looking as you do without them. I'm told it's a very delicate process, though I can't say that I've done it myself," Celdere admitted. Harry took a moment's pause to take in that information, but his thoughtful mood vanished quickly and was once again replaced by his pre-school jitters.

"How do I look?" Harry asked, once again changing the subject, standing to show off his school robes.

"Like a kid," Celdere responded certainly, with the weight of her millennia on earth behind her.

"It feels really weird to be wearing robes and only one knife on me," Harry admitted, fussing with the hem of his sleeve.

"You look fine Harry," Celdere insisted. "Although I think that just one knife is a bit extreme so I took the liberty of getting you a few presents." With a snap of her fingers there was a long silver tray floating in midair. "A few more knives to add to your collection. I want most of them to stay in your trunk for emergencies, but I know that there is no possible way to keep you from keeping a few of them on you. The ones with the red design on the hilt and the ones with the green design are coated with potions and poisons, the red have lethal things on them while the green have things like pain potions on them. Any of the guards can tell you what you need to know about what's on those. The ones with the silver designs are silver bladed and the plain black are just your average knife." To Harry this sounded like a bit more than a 'few' knives but he wasn't going to complain about presents. A quick look at the tray showed him that there were about two of each type, sitting there, all with intricately curving designs, colored to match her description. "All have locator spells on them so you can't lose them," Celdere was continuing, "as well as anti summoning charms so that no one but you can summon them plus the ever sharpening spell and an automatic potion renewal spell so that the poison never wears off. I would suggest keeping most of the more dangerous ones in your trunk, but I trust your judgment," she concluded with a smile.

As thanks for the presents and the vote of confidence, he hugged his mentor tightly.

"Thanks mom," he whispered into her curly brown locks as her arms came around him in response.

"Make me proud," she whispered into his still unruly hair. That was the one thing about his appearance that hadn't, and probably couldn't, change under any circumstances. They both fell silent for a moment, locked in their hug, before the vampire Queen gave him a tight squeeze for a moment before letting him go. "Don't hesitate to send home if you need help, okay," she reminded him unnecessarily, reseating herself on the bed, having stood to hug him. Harry nodded before shrinking his luggage with one last survey of the room.

"See you at Christmas, mom," he said lightly.

"Expect to see me before then," she warned, adjusting the drape and fold of her deep jade gown upon the bed with nimble fingers. "You never know when I could drop in for a visit with the Headmaster or his Deputy and I would expect to see and hear that you were behaving yourself."

He snapped off a smart salute. "Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," he said loudly, soldier-like, causing a broad smile to cross her face.

Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway, pausing only once to take a glace back to find Celdere still seated on his bed, before starting to make his way through the twisting passages that had been designed to confuse intruders. Luckily, Harry had memorized the castle shortly after his arrival, probably due to the practice in it that Hogwarts had given him, and was able to find his way easily to the small side door where the limo waited to pick him up. The guard at the door opened it for him respectfully, a footman taking his luggage for him and putting it into the boot, the door to the limo standing open. With a smile for both men, he slid in, noticing at once that the limo wasn't empty. One of the people he knew for a member of his guard while the other he didn't know.

"I'm Jessica," the woman said, holding out a hand with violently green nails that would have reminded him of Rita Skeeter has she also not been so obviously flamboyant, instead of poisonous.

"Harry," he said, shaking her proffered hand. "You're in charge of my appearance?" he assumed.

"That I am," the woman said confidently. "It shouldn't be too difficult, although it may seem that way, but its mostly just going to be tedious. I'm going to be charming the very tiniest details of your face back to how they were, so its going to be tedious, but don't worry, it's a relatively short drive to King's Cross," she assured him.

Relatively short turned out to be a bit longer than he had expected, but after one look in the mirror that Jessica handed him he found he couldn't fault her for being slightly deceptive, since she was as good at her job as she had said. The change back into The-Boy-Who-Lived was just as sudden as the one into Vampire Prince but he knew already that he could be used to this reflection in a way that he never had been able to with the Vampire look. The slow morph back would do wonders for his comfort zone. Handing the mirror back to Jessica with one last, hard, look, he thanked the other vampire before getting out of the limo and walking towards Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Knowing that his bags would be sent ahead he boarded the train without a side trip to stow his luggage, claiming a compartment and trying to relax as he waited for his friends to show up.

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He realized that he must have fallen asleep when he was jarred awake by a high-pitched screeching brown blur. Hermione launched herself at him, hugging him until he wouldn't have been able to breathe before letting him go only to scold him. Harry knew that he was only half listening, and the bushy-haired Gryffindor probably knew it, as he caught Ron's eye over Hermione's shoulder. The redhead had evidently come in right behind her with Ginny following behind them. Ron kindly let Hermione finish her rant before coming over and shaking his hand.

"Nice to see you mate," he said easily. "Hermione's been going spare worrying about you all summer. I got all of my homework done in a week," he said ruefully. Harry just laughed as Hermione and Ron started light-hearted banter until the train started to move.

"Where were you this summer, Harry?" Ginny asked suddenly, startling Harry enough that his head shot up to met her questioning gaze. A look around the compartment told him that her curiosity was matched in everyone's eyes aside from Luna's, who was as detached and serene as she always was. Both she and Neville had joined them not too long after Hermione and Ron had sat down.

"I was safely hidden away with some new allies," he said quietly, after taking a moment to decide what to tell them. "I can't really tell you much more than that, but I'm sure you'll find out more about my summer once Dumbledore tells the rest of the Order about it," he hedged, knowing they were going to want to ask him more. Thankfully everyone dropped the subject as easily as it had been brought up, all save Hermione, who gave him one last questioning look before returning to her book. Harry was astonished; even though he had been singing her praises short hours ago, he was still surprised at how smart she was, and how hard it was to feed her even a half-truth.

Because of his vampire hearing he heard the telltale squeal of the train's brakes being applied as they approached the station. Given the size of the train and the softness of the noise, Harry judged that they were nearing Hogsmeade Station but still had a ways to go.

"You guys might want to start changing into your robes," he said at the next possible break in the conversation. "We're almost there." Everyone instantly started to look around the compartment for their luggage except for Hermione, who was looking at him suspiciously.

"How did you know that?" she wanted to know.

Harry, knowing that he couldn't say 'I heard the brakes squeal', just shrugged in response. "I guess I recognize the terrain," he said, painfully aware that the land outside looked no different from the land that they had been passing for hours. She seemed to accept it for the moment and quickly shooed the boys out the door while she, Ginny, and Luna changed. He was busy deflecting Ron's questions about what he had seen of the Chudley Cannons while he had been away when Morgan walked up to them.

"Hey, Harry," she said, surreptitiously checking to make sure that her weapons were hidden when she saw that he was with other people.

"Hey, Morgan," he replied, noticing the odd looks Neville and Ron were shooting his way. "Guys, this is Morgan, we met over the summer. Morgan, this is Neville and Ron."

She extended her hand with a dazzling smile. "Harry's told me so much about you both. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

All that either of the boys could manage was "Same here." If they were that bad after one smile, then they would probably freak out when they found out that he had been spending at least 12 hours a day with the bewitching vampire. The thought brought a faint smile to his lips.

Morgan turned back to Harry. "I've been looking for you all day."

"Yeah," Harry said, catching on to what she was doing, "I figured that you were. What took you so long?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Well, when I said that I was looking for you it seemed that a lot of people wanted to know who I was. Some of them thought I was your girlfriend." She gave a small laugh.

"You aren't?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Of course not," she answered, as if bored by now of answering the question, "But I couldn't convince everyone that I wasn't. Some were pretty jealous and others…" she trailed off delicately, "Others were a bit more hostile about it."

"I bet it was Malfoy," Ron said angrily. "I'm surprised we haven't seen ferret-face yet. God knows he loves to torment us every year on the train."

"I doubt that you'll see him at all today," Morgan said with a smile. "I don't take to threats very kindly and since he kept trying to grab me… It could take him a few days to recover."

They were all laughing at Malfoy's fate when Ginny threw the compartment door open and stepped into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind her.

"You guys can come back in now," she said. "We're all…" She had caught sight of Morgan, who was laughing prettily with the guys and standing close to Harry on the outside of the group.

"You must be Ginny," Morgan said, easily filling the awkward silence that had fallen upon the small group, stepping forward to shake the youngest Weasley's hand. "I'm Morgan, Harry and I met over the summer." Ginny's face visibly fell at the thought of Harry dating someone else.

"Are you-" she started awkwardly.

"No," Morgan said with a forced cheer, "although everyone does seem to think the same way as you. We're just friends. I actually taught him a few things over the summer."

The compartment door slid open again to reveal Hermione, who didn't come out into the hall right away as Ginny had.

"Ginny, what on earth-?" She had noticed Morgan. "I'm Hermione," the Gryffindor said, hesitantly holding out her hand. Morgan took it enthusiastically.

"Morgan," she said, by way of introduction. "Harry and I met over the summer."

Hermione seemed to be either the only person who didn't seem to care if they were together or not or had enough self-restraint not to ask about it.

"Nice to meet you," she said instead, with only the smallest pause to show that she was slightly uneasy, the pause so small that the others didn't even notice it. "Do you have friends that you're sitting with?"

"Not really," Morgan replied with a grin. "I've been making my way through the train and making some new ones. That Malfoy bloke was really nice, especially after I threatened to castrate him." Hermione couldn't help but grin, which she tried in vain to hide.

"You're welcome to sit with us, if you'd like," Hermione offered.

Morgan accepted gracefully and continued to chat amicably to the others the whole rest of the time. To Harry's perspective, she was less friendly.

"I can't believe that all they want to know about me is whether or not we're dating," she fumed, using the vampire-modified version of American Sign Language to communicate her fury. It was among one of the many things that Harry had worked hard to master over the summer, and it hadn't really had much use during his stay at the vampire keep. Now, however, he was really able to see how useful it was.

"Well you are friends with the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry replied, signing as well. "There will always be people who will think we're together."

"Hermione's the only one with enough decency not to ask. The boys have been drooling at me since the moment they saw me. They didn't even stop when they thought I was dating you," she commented, her disgust communicated clearly in the movement of her fingers.

"You wear the vampire look very well," Harry said. "How did your conversation with Dumbledore go?"

She finger-shrugged. "It went okay. He's not very happy about it but he also isn't willing to risk alienating you over it, especially because making you mad enrages the whole vampire community. Celdere is a powerful threat to anyone. As it is, so long as you don't eat any students he'll try and treat you no differently. Of course, Celdere's frequent visits to the school should also see to that."

"She is going to be discreet about it, isn't she?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I'm sure she will about your relation to her but I'm also expecting that she'll be sweeping down the halls in broad daylight."

"Great," he signed, tuning back into the spoken conversation just as they pulled into the station.

"Who do you think our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is, Harry?" Neville wanted to know.

"No idea," he said, truly not having a clue. "I hope that its Moody or Lupin though. As long as it's not Umbridge or Snape I'm happy." He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked just in time to see Morgan signing something at him.

"It's neither."

"Who is it?" he signed back curiously. She pointedly ignored him. Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything more out of her on the subject, he turned back to his friends and immersed himself in conversation, trying to keep the speculation from running rampant through his head.

It wasn't until they were seated in the Great Hall that they all realized something.

"You haven't been sorted yet," Ron said, pointing an accusing finger at Morgan, blowing things out of proportion as only the redhead could.

"I have," she said simply in return, sitting down calmly next to Harry and across from Hermione. "Headmaster Dumbledore sorted me when I came in to get tested. Transfer students have to undergo a series of tests to endure that they are up to date on the materials covered by their classmates in previous years. According to Hogwarts: A History it was enacted some several hundred years ago when Beaxbaton students started this mass exodus from Wizarding France. I can't remember why they all left though." Harry smiled at seeing the evidence of Morgan's thoroughness. He wasn't sure that he would have thought to think of an excuse for not being sorted had he been in her place.

"Napoleon was terrorizing the wizards in France as he fought for more territory," Hermione added in, looking at Morgan in awe, finally having found someone who had read her favorite book. "At that time magical France held the most land and assets and Napoleon was trying to wrestle their control of France away from them. Many chose to leave and start again in Britain. It was then that they realized that the French schooling of the time wasn't up to the same level as Hogwarts' was so they put in the tests so that they could place them by skill rather than age," she finished.

"That was it," Morgan confirmed, grinning at the other girl. "I already know that I'm a Gryffindor."

"I don't see the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher up there, do you?" Ron said, changing the subject away from Hogwarts: A History as quickly as he could. "I don't reckon that Dumbledore has him bringing in the first years."

"I would think so," Ginny said just as the Headmaster stood up to give his speech. By the time the Sorting started Ron was staring longingly at his plate. When the food actually appeared Harry was sure that he nearly passed out from happiness. Dumbledore stood again.

"I would like to welcome all of our transfer students to Hogwarts. I'm sure that the rest of you will do your best to make them feel welcome here. I would also like to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Morelock." There was a small pop and a puff of smoke and then a figure dressed in all black appeared sprawled over the empty chair next to McGonagall. He looked around the Great Hall languidly, catching both Harry's and Morgan's eyes before giving a small smile and a slow lazy wave. There was a small burst of applause during which the new professor reached for his water goblet.

Harry turned to Morgan, choking on his hastily inhaled water. His glare was met with an innocent smile as she reached over and patted him on the back. He was dimly aware of Hermione looking at him in concern as he turned back to the head table, staring at the lithe form that had caused his choking fit with one simple gesture because Harry had seen what no one else would have noticed: the small flash of quick and skilled vampire sign language. His eyes left the High Table once, and that was to shoot Morgan a look that promised a talk later, before his attention was once again on the vampire seated next to his Head of House. He followed the conversation around him, but was only paying partial attention and didn't contribute much of anything aside from one-word answers and non-committal grunts.

After the feast, Harry practically shoved Hermione, Ron, and Gnny up the stairs before rounding on Morgan, glad to finally have the freedom to have the conversation he was now willing to let her weasel her way out of.

"You knew," he stated calmly, but his eyes were furious. "You didn't think to tell me that they were sending me in with a babysitter. It's bad enough that Mom will be popping in whenever she pleases and that you report to her but now I've got someone who can actually keep me in line. If Mom says detention I get one," he spat angrily, calm gone.

"Babysitter?" Morgan asked, flopping down on one of the plush, scarlet couches that were scattered all over the common room. "Bryce Morelock is hardly a babysitter for anyone, even the fucking vampire prince." She ignored Harry's attempts at hushing her and plowed on. "He is here to be backup in case of emergency. Bryce loves to teach and that is what he is planning on doing while he is here. You know as well as I that there is a war coming up and the Hogwarts students are allied with you. They need the best defense education possible and vampire education is the best in that area. Bryce is the best person for the student population," she said, as if this was the only logical conclusion someone could come to. "He is also here, along with a surveillance team," she added, "to keep an eye on the Jr. Death Eaters. He is a teacher and he can more or less control any privileges they have. He can restrict when they can pass along information and what they hear. Voldemort knows that you're here and that creates a potential problem. It was too risky not sending you back so we have people on hand just in case he tries something here. Morelock is not your babysitter," she concluded.

Harry sighed, raking a hand through his already messy hair. "You're right, I'm sorry I yelled. Dumbledore coddled me for so long; if I had an Order member with me they were there to make sure I didn't do anything stupid. I forget that the vampire nation intends for me to have the resources that I need for when I do that stupid thing." He smiled tiredly. "Get some rest, I'm fairly positive that we have Morelock first thing and he won't go easy on us just because I'm royalty. If anything I'm sure it will be harder material that everyone else has to learn."

Morelock's class the next day was, as Harry had expected, tough. The lazy and causal vampire was unpredictably violent in such a way that Harry was fairly sure Moody would have been proud. As Harry had predicted, he and Morgan were chosen to demonstrate several different things in front of the class, and Harry was having a hard time remembering that he hadn't learned the material yet. While Morelock seemed to give him a break for most of it he would also chastise him unexpectedly for not trying hard enough to master what he was demonstrating. Harry knew that it was the best class he had ever had at Hogwarts, even if the effort of holding back while continuing to excel at the subject was going to prove even more difficult given his temperamental new teacher.

Eventually he found a rhythm in the physical work and found himself forgetting that his teacher was one of his subjects. About halfway through the lesson Morelock set them to work in partners, specifying in vampire sign language that Harry and Morgan were to work together. While the rest of the class shot stunners at each other Harry and Morgan received a silent lesson in surveillance of your enemy and strategy as the sleek vampire pointed out crucial weaknesses in their classmates dueling style. By the end of the lesson Harry's head was swimming with new lesson plans for the D.A. and had almost managed to forgive Morgan for the surprise of Morelock's arrival. Almost.

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	3. The Amazon Nation

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 3: The Amazon Nation

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Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.

~Helen Keller

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After three weeks Hermione had settled into a comfortable routine, easily adapting her school schedule, cluttered though it was, around running. Over the summer she had started to exercise more, reasoning that a Death Eater attack would involve stamina and endurance as well as speed, and even with N.E.W.T.s looming closer she had taken the time out of her studying to stay in shape. Over time she had found that taking the time out of her studying to run actually calmed her more than it did worry her, as if she was running away from all of her problems and those that came up because of her runs never caught up to her. Of course, the only opening in her schedule now that she was back at school was early in the morning or late at night, so she got up early and ran laps, usually around the school grounds, slipping back into her dorm room just as people were beginning to wake up. Today, however, she decided to run just inside the forest, hoping the different terrain would give her a bit more of a workout, and a break up in the usual routine. She veered towards the forest, once she had run around the huge curve of the lake, pausing only to make sure that her wand was safely down the back of her sports bra before crossing the tree line. Though she usually wasn't an advocate of running (literally or figuratively) around the Forbidden Forest, due to its forbidden nature, she decided that she would be able to handle herself if she went no farther than just inside the tree line. And since she was so close to the school grounds, there could be nothing truly dangerous in that area that she would really need a wand, but her previous dealings in the forest, and those she had heard about from Harry and Ron, made sure that she was going to err on the side of caution. It was a good thing too, because not even fifteen minutes later she realized that she was lost, and was much farther into the forest than she had planned on going ever again, let alone that morning.

She was stopped in the middle of a clearing, one of many that looked so similar that Hermione wasn't sure that they weren't all clones of each other, trying to figure out where the edge of the forest was when she heard a twig snap. Unsure of what exactly had made the sound (centaurs would have been her best bet except for the fact that no one had started to shoot arrows at her yet) her hand started to drift slowly towards her wand as she looked around, trying to still act confused, tryig to turn the motion into a casual rub of the back of her neck.

"Touch your wand and it won't be pretty," said a voice from her left. Apparently they weren't fooled by her poor acting skills, and though she was relieved to hear that they at least sounded human, she wasn't so relieved that she discounted their threat. She dropped her hand back to her side instantly.

"We have you surrounded," said another, this time from her right. Hermione suspected the switch in speaker was just to emphasize that they weren't bluffing. This, of course, also spoke of high organization and flawless teamwork, which weren't always good combinations, especially in enemies.

"Who are you?" demanded a third voice from the trees behind her.

She thought it best to answer. "Hermione Granger. I'm a Hogwarts student," she added, hoping that the fact that she was a student would deter whoever was in the bushes like it had the centaurs when she was a 5th year. Of course, they hadn't parted with them on good terms, but still, they had parted alive.

She heard a sharp intake of breath from in front of her, where the twig had originally been snapped. "Are you friends with Harry Potter?" the person hidden in front of her wanted to know.

"Yeah," she answered cautiously, hoping that they weren't Harry's enemies. There was a bit of whispered conference, the sounds somehow carrying across the clearing so that every member could understand the words that were said from where they were positioned, but so that Hermione, in the middle of their network, couldn't understand a thing, before they stepped out from the trees and into the clearing. Their clothes were what she noticed about them first, and she was reminded of how she had fixated on Wizarding robes when she had first been introduced to witches and wizards. So reminded, she forced her focus away from their clothes for long enough to see that each carried a weapon of some sort, mostly knives and swords. As her attention returned back to their clothing she saw that they each had leather cords crisscrossing their way up to their elbows and sensible, sturdy boots midway up their calves. They were each wearing a variety of leather clothing, tops that resembled bikinis and skirts that bordered on loincloths, and their hair was loose with a few braids to keep it out of their faces.

"Who are you?" Hermione blurted, instantly feeling like a rude, obnoxious idiot. That sort of comment was more at home coming out of Ron's mouth than hers. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, before any of them could take offense. They did quite the opposite, luckily for Hermione, and all of them started to giggle. Hermione was sure that her face registered some sort of shock at the response. They had started the conversation with threats and now they were giggling? It was like dealing with Lavender and Parvati.

"We're Amazons," the one on her left, a blonde, piped up when they had recovered from their giggling fit. "We were wondering if you would come back to our camp with us and meet with our queen. You might be the solution to a problem that we've been trying to solve. We won't harm you, whichever you choose," she added.

Hermione couldn't help but weigh the pros and cons. On the plus side, she had freedom to choose either way without being hurt. On the downside, she didn't know where she was going or for how long, and what she had seen of these Amazons seemed fairly unbalanced. But in the end her curiosity won out and she nodded her assent before starting to throw questions at the blonde, who fell into step next to her as the party moved deeper into the forest. "I thought that the Amazons disappeared after the failed invasion of the island of Leuke." Hermione said, questioning and excited at the same time.

"We nearly died out but now that the magical community has nearly separated completely from the muggle community it has been easier to bring our numbers back again," the blonde answered, raising even more questions than it really answered. Of course, Hermione put those aside for another time and went on a different track.

"Are you considered magical beings by the Ministry, then, like vampires or werewolves?" she wanted to know, once again back to the 'what are you?' part of their meeting. It was a valid question considering that all known information about Amazons must be considered inconclusive now that she had the real things in front of her.

"I don't think that they know we exist despite the fact that we have a couple dozen tribes scattered all over Europe. We have a few that are an offshoot of Vikings up in Iceland and some in the United Kingdom that are mostly descendants from the Celtic warriors. The rest are more in southern Europe, closer towards where we originated from in the first place: Greece, or what was then Greece and Rome. We've managed to keep ourselves hidden mostly because we only fight with the centaurs over land and they won't tell anyone anything." Hermione nodded, as this fact had indeed been proven by her own run-ins with the centaurs, at least the ones of this forest. She also couldn't imagine that the centaurs were happy about an entire group of women taking up residence in their territory She was entertaining that idea in her head for a good portion of her journey, and by the time she thought to ask another question, the journey was over.

They had reached the Amazon camp, a series of tents, campfires, and stacks of weapons that was larger than Hermione had been expecting. It was closer to an Amazon village. Most of the women in the camp were taking advantage of any open space to spar with each other, crossing paths with other fighters as they trained all over camp. The other women around the camp seemed to have no trouble avoiding the fighters as they went about their chores, a feat which seemed impossible to Hermione, considering the ferocity at which the spars were taking place, and therefore their tendency to be wild and unpredictable.

But despite the madness Hermione could see the organization lurking just under the surface. The tents were arranged in orderly rows with a campfire every five or six tents. Hermione was willing to bet that the Amazons were hoping not to be noticed by the centaur tribe living in the Forbidden Forest based on what she had been told and noticed that no person was unarmed for any length of time. Those who were leaving camp to gather firewood or complete other tasks took a partner, equally armed to the teeth. She also noticed that, while everyone in the camp feigned disinterest in her presence, each and every one of them was watching her carefully.

Her honor guard led her to a large tent near the center of camp and left her to wait. Hermione assumed that their were guards on the tent opening and was trying to figure out how many guards she deserved when a woman entered the tent with a loud rustle of heavy canvas.

"Miss Granger," she said, holding out a calloused hand to shake. Her forearms had the same leather cords as everyone else but she was wearing a headdress adorned with raven feathers. It stayed behind her hairline except for where it curved into a point in the middle of her forehead, obviously supposed to be a bird beak. "I hear that you're a friend of Harry Potter's. My name is Ainia, the queen of this Amazon tribe. The girls tell me that you may be the very person I've been looking for," she added with a smile.

"And just who is that, Ainia?" Hermione asked, slightly shocked at her own daring. If this woman was Queen then she could fight much better than the patrol who had brought her in, and there was no doubting that any of these women knew how to fight. It wasn't the most intelligent move to go around asking impertinent questions. Before she could apologize, the second time that day for that matter, the woman had given a short bark of laughter.

"From what I see and hear, I may just believe them," she said mysteriously. She waited a moment to study Hermione closely for her reaction (which was slight annoyance) and then continued back on topic. "The Amazons as a people have been finding it difficult to ally ourselves with a side in the upcoming war," she began delicately. "At the moment you would say that there are three maybe four sides: the Ministry, Voldemort, the Order, and possibly Harry Potter. The way Amazons see it there are only two: Harry Potter and Voldemort. We know it is Harry's destiny to defeat Voldemort and therefore anyone who is hindering his efforts helps Voldemort and vice versa. Harry doesn't help the Order of the Pheonix, as they like to believe. Instead they are his first allies in his war campaign. We would like to help Harry as well by become his allies but there is an Amazon law that forbids it." Here Ainia gave a heavy sigh, as if wishing that such customs did not exist just for the more simplified system of alliances. "We cannot pledge our allegiance to any man, good or bad. Are you planning on seeing this war through at Harry Potter's side, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was flustered by the sudden and direct question but she knew the answer well enough that being off-balance didn't matter. She didn't hesitate. "He couldn't make me leave it," she said firmly. She knew that she had been crushing on the Boy-Who-Lived since fourth year but had been afraid to be rejected and ruin their friendship. She hadn't told him when he got together with Cho because she knew it wouldn't last and she didn't tell him when he was dating Ginny because she didn't want to spoil his happiness. She found out later that she was the only person who had met Morgan and not asked her if she and Harry were dating, something she didn't do because she didn't want to hear that he had chosen someone else over the summer. He didn't deserve to have her pry into his life either. She loved him enough to let him go and be happy, even if it made her heart break. If he was happy with another girl then their friendship was the most valuable thing that they had. She wouldn't risk ruining it.

Ainia gave her an odd look before continuing. "What I would like to propose is uniting all the Amazon tribes together into one nation under one queen that can be our tie into the war. The existing queens will step down and act as advisors. If you cannot be forced to leave his side during this war then you are our best candidate. You are the only woman who he wouldn't boss around; if he did then you would be under him and the Amazons under you also under him. Amazons bow to no man," she said with a sudden fierceness that reminded Hermione of a bird more formidable than the raven whose likeness the Amazon Queen wore as a headdress.

"Why me?" Hermione asked, slightly numb with shock. "Why not some other woman in power? Someone older, perhaps, who actually knows how to do more than read and wave a wand in the coolness of a classroom?" Hermione knew, instinctively, that she was selling herself short. She had, after all, survived every near-death experience that the years had brought her along with Harry and Ron, and none too worse for the wear. But even so, she didn't like the idea of being chosen to lead a people about whom she knew nothing, especially when they valued skills that she did not posess.

"The only other is the Vampire Queen Celdere who has struck occasional deals with the Amazons over the centuries," Ainia was continuing, as if Hermione hadn't even interrupted. "However, Celdere is no longer truly in charge of her empire. There is a new Vampire Prince who is their connection into this war as well. Allying ourselves to the vampires would only be chaining ourselves to a man." Hermione nodded as she realized the ties that bound the Amazons from allying with the vampires.

"And so you see my, our, dilemma," Ainia said wearily. "I personally think you might be selling yourself short, since after all a friend of Harry Potter has to have survived some pretty interesting and dangerous things, but regardless if you accept we would train you in hand to hand combat as well as dueling magic. Building skills in those areas should not only boost your popularity with the members of this tribe, but also with the Queens or ambassadors of the other tribes, when I call them together to discuss this proposition. Should they accept, and even if they do not, you have at least a portion of the Amazon nation behind you and we were once known as some of the fiercest warriors. We may have disappeared for centuries but our fighting standards have not. You will have the entire nation at your beck and call if they accept."

Hermione's head spun wildly for a moment as the information sunk in, once again weighing pros and cons. After what seemed like forever, she had made up her mind. "What do I need to do?" she asked tiredly, too mentally exhausted to question her decisions.

"We need you to undergo a tattooing ritual in order to bond you to the tribe. That tradition used to be only rooted in physical appearance, but as new spells have been invented we've been able to charm the ink so that the markings server another purpose. If you are in trouble, we will know, and if you are lost or captured we will be able to find you. But I would guess that you don't have the time for tattoos now," Ainia observed dryly.

"No, I must get back into my room before any of my dorm mates wake up and assume the worst. Is there any way," she said reluctantly, "any way that I can come back later, for the- for the tattoos?" she asked, hating the idea of marking up her body permanently. It wasn't that she had something against people with tattoos, just that she had never really considered getting tattoos herself.

"They are magic," Ainia informed her, shrewdly figuring out the main source of Hermione's discomfort, "and hide themselves from prying eyes. No one will be able to see them but you if that is how you wish it," she said gently. Then she was back into brisk efficiency. "In order to come back you will need a portkey. I can get you one quickly if you have the time to wait for it to be made. If not I will set guards on the edges of the forest to lead you into camp."

"I can wait," Hermione said quickly, not liking the idea of roaming around in the forest after dark even with several armed guards. "I won't be able to make it back until at least ten o'clock," she warned, knowing that she would need to take care of her homework and studying to a certain extent before she could even think of leaving, and that she would have to find some way to ditch her friends, which she wouldn't be able to do plausibly if it was too early in the evening.

"It is never to late for an initiation," Ainia said with a wide smile. She crossed over to the tent flap and stuck her head out. Hermione could hear her voice ringing through the camp. "Cleite, I need a two way portkey between Hogwarts and here. Make it the leather cord with the silver ring." She stuck her head back inside. "It ought to be just a few moments."

A few moments later a redhead hurried into the tent holding a necklace, a leather cord holding a silver ring. "Where in Hogwarts do you need it from?" she asked, eyes flicking over to Hermione before settling on Ainia. Ainia looked at Hermione.

"Gryffindor Tower," she said promptly. "The seventh year girls dormitories if you can manage that." Cleite look offended. "The bed closest to the window," Hermione said hurriedly, hoping that the added specific would sooth the Amazon's ruffled feathers. It did. Cleite tapped it with her wand a few times, frowning in concentration until the ring turned blue.

"Activation word is Amazon," Cleite told her as she handed the necklace to Hermione before leaving.

"Thank you for agreeing," Ainia said gratefully. "It means a lot to us that you would help a bunch of strangers deal with their honor system."

"It's really not a problem," Hermione said, feeling secure in her decision for the first time since she had made it.

"I'll have a squad walk you back to the forest edge," Ainia said, sticking her head out of the tent to do just that before stepping aside to let Hermione pass through the flap. Hermione shot her a grateful smile before walking out, followed by five scantily clad and heavily armed women. By the time she had jogged past Hagrid's hut they had all disappeared soundlessly into the foliage.

She slipped back into the school with no problems, somehow managing to avoid Filtch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, as well as any teachers that might have been up early to patrol the corridors. The Fat Lady barely stirred when she spoke the password, much as she had when Hermione had left the common room in the first place, and there was no one spending an early morning in front of the dying common room fire. Nor were any of her dorm mates awake although they were stirring by the time she got out of the shower, mind awake and body refreshed. Something Ainia had said was still weighing heavily on her mind, though. Who was the vampire connection to Harry? Shaking her head at the puzzle, though she knew it was impossible for her to solve, for now, she continued about her day as normally as possible.

However, by the end of the day she was so eager to be back with the Amazons in the forest that she practically fled the common room as soon as it was possible to do so without acting suspicious. Changing into her jogging gear, she sat cross-legged on the middle of her bed, drawing the curtains before casting privacy charms around the bed. She grabbed at the portkey around her neck, the metal of the ring cool against her palm, and checked that she had everything that she needed for tonight before speaking the activation word, transporting herself instantly to the center of the Amazon encampment. No one seemed all that surprised by her arrival, indeed only one person seemed to even notice her, beckoning her to follow into one of the larger tents. Ainia was waiting for her. Hermione had only a moment to wonder what sort of village this was, since people appearing out of midair was normal and yet there wasn't a wand in sight, but by the time she has started to work out the answer her legs were carrying her across camp and through the tent flap that separated Ainia's quarters from the rest of the encampment.

"Welcome back," the older woman said with a smile, rising from a cushion on the floor and reaching out a hand to shake. "Someone will be in in just a second with the equipment for the ritual but I just wanted to let you know what was going to happen before they got here. You should know that the ink will be colored, but it will enter your skin as black, and then magically color itself to compliment your aura. Unfortunately, the process can only be delayed for so long, and even without delay will make you incredibly sick for several hours. It ought to look like a 24-hour bug of some sorts, but during that period the ink will resist being hidden, so the illness will actually come in handy to some extent. I would suggest calling out sick and skipping class, otherwise you'll be miserable all day long and will want to be wearing long sleeves and gloves. Scottland may be getting cold already, but I don't think its quite that cold yet. It is up to you to decide how you handle that aspect however.

"During the process myself and two of my advisors will update you on our entire situation since I'm afraid that we didn't have the time this morning to give you the full picture. That should also help pass the time and ease the pain somewhat," she added as a redhead entered the tent with a large bowl filled to the brim with black ink and a long wooden stick with three metal prongs barely centimeters apart from each other at one end.

Hermione blanched. "You're going to use that," she said in a squeak that had her clapping her hand over her mouth instants later. "What about the electric needles and all of the other modern stuff that they use now?" She knew that she sounded like a wimp but she couldn't really bring herself to care, considering when she had agreed she had thought that there would be modern technology being used to keep the process clean and quick. It seemed that that was not to be the case

"It looks daunting, I know," Ainia said with a grin as the tattooist set her things down on the only table in the room and set about preparing her workspace. "But as many things are in the Amazon world, this is rooted in tradition. Think of it as a bonding ritual not just to us but also to the Amazons of the past. We are all bonded to them through ink, pain, blood, sweat, and tears after all."

Hermione shook her head reluctantly, trying to make up her mind about what she would do as inner turmoil set in. It wasn't too late to walk away, but she was too confused by the conflicting emotions. "I'll guess now is as good as any to bond with my ancestors," she decided, lying face down on the bed as she was directed. "Start talking," she said with a gasp as the prongs were dug into her skin with no warning. She hadn't expected to much time to be given her, but she was expecting at least a question of her readiness.

Ainia grinned at her. "Since I sense that you are a scholarly sort I'll begin with the history of the Amazons, and the origination of the tribal tattoos before moving on to focus on the magical tribes and the politics of now.

"The Amazon tribes of the past started the practice of tattooing their initiates because they knew that noting in life was certain. They used it as a bonding ritual because it was the only thing that they could be certain of happening to each and every Amazon. It wasn't certain if an Amazon was going to undergo the same training, fight a centaur, bear a child or anything else that was common place in the average Amazon's life. It was through that ritual that the tribe members could bond with every Amazon, dead or alive, as sisters. The tattoos were used to identify Amazons from the run-of-the-mill fighters as well as clan affiliation. At the height of the Amazon power no man dared to attack a traveling Amazon, and other Amazons were warned off of attacking their fellows from other tribes. The tattoo was the only certain way of identification. When you get the chance to look at your own tattoos and study the ones that the other women of the tribe wear you will be able to see where yours are similar to theirs and where yours differ. In a way, the tattoos identify you as an individual, as a member of a tribe, and as a member of a nation. No two tattoos are alike, much like fingerprints."

At that point Hermione had somewhat adjusted to the pain, though she was discovering that every time she thought that the entire ordeal wouldn't be so terrible a particularly painful part of her virgin skin was marred with ink. Determined to keep herself from the pain of having her hopes and expectations dashed to the ground every time a tender spot was inked, she nodded for the Amazon Queen to continue, and tried even harder to pay full attention.

"Part of the reason that the Amazons rose to power was through the help of their sorcerers, the first Amazon witches," Ainia explained. "As the Amazon nation started to fall the witches started to separate from the muggle clans, forming their own magical community. They adapted the tattooing ritual to the more magic-based ritual that it is today to allow for their tattoos to be hidden. That way, if necessary, only those who knew where and how to look could discover who they truly were. When the Amazon tribes died out the magical tribes used this adaptation to keep themselves hidden from the world. Now the only way to view the tattoos without the wearer's permission is a spell called the Aura Revealer. It has always been a hard spell to perform as well as a rather obscure one, now only a few know of it and only some of those can perform it. Occasionally the tattoos will make themselves visible through corresponding markings or patterns in an Amazon's animagus form, but since Animagi are rare and no one thinks twice about the pattern of an animal's fur, it hasn't come into play very much. The only other way to see them is if you wish to make them visible."

Two more women entered the tent, bringing with them the sound of weapons being honed while the women sat around campfires, telling stories and enjoying the night air.

"Hermione," Ainia said quickly, standing so that she could make room for the newcomers, "This is Otrera and Helene, my advisors. They will try to help you understand our priorities in this war."

"Pleasure," Hermione managed to ground out through clenched teeth, as the needles bored into yet another sensitive spot.

"The Amazon nation has strongly believed in the 'fight fire with fire' philosophy for quite some time," Otrera began after a moment of whispered conference. "At the beginning of our race it wasn't an uncommon philosophy to have. As the centuries passed the tendency towards fighting gave way to one towards talking. As a result only a few races think of war as a first response. Once the centaurs thought like us; now, as you can see, they would rather talk out their problems amongst themselves and keep their heads in the heavens. The only nations that think to take what they deserve by force are the werewolves and the vampires and it is those similarities between us that have forged several alliances between them and us in the past. They value our skills as fighters, and our subtlety, and so they keep our existence a secret. However, as things have progressed with the war, the werewolves have sided with Voldemort and therefore against us. The vampire Queen, Celdere, is usually such a pleasure to work with, and the alliance with the vampires has been a long and prosperous one since Celdere has held her crown for at least a century, but recently she crowned a new Prince and made him her heir, and that is dealing too closely with men for our liking. Hoewever, Celdere's discretion may extend to the point where it is possible that even the he does not know of us."

Helene picked up the story. "Now that the Vampire Prince is at Hogwarts we are in more danger of being discovered than ever before. He will have vampire guards with him as well as someone to patrol the borders of the school. They will find us eventually," she said, stating it as a fact, "The only question is how long it will take them. Tomorrow you will start a training regime in order to make you more acceptable to the average Amazon as our queen. If you were to be crowned right now you would be an Amazon who doesn't know how to fight and that is one of the basic pillars of Amazon society. It is our hope that you will catch on fast and be ready to be tested when the other queens or delegates from the other tribes meet up with us. We also hope that we can manage to avoid detection from either the centaurs or the vampires until after they arrive and you are accepted as queen. As soon as the centaurs find us we have revealed ourselves to the vampires and we cannot afford to be at war with the centaurs and dealing with vampire politics. We project the time of discovery to be after Christmas Break. We hope to crown you before you leave for break."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully as she committed their projection plan to memory. Later that night she would make herself a study schedule so that she could balance both school and training at the same time. As far as she could discern, the tattooing process would be a long one, since she could feel that only a tiny portion of her back had been covered.

"What will I be learning?" she asked, curious.

"We'll start with the conditioning work first, which shouldn't take too long since you run every morning anyway," Ainia said, ticking items off her fingers. "While you are learning that you will be taught to use several spells and potions that you can put together pre-battle to prepare the ground. Then we start hand-to-hand combat. Those lessons will have added opponents as you progress. Then we move onto weapons, starting with a fighting staff and ending with a sword. As with the hand-to-hand your number of opponents will increase as you gain proficiency with each weapon and as you master your weapons your opponents will start using weapons other than the one you're using to fight against you. Then you will start joining the patrol parties, learning how to work inside a unit when battling and when idle. They will also teach you how to use the trees and other forest pieces to your advantage. Then you start learning how to ride horses, adding on horseback fighting techniques once you've got the hang of it. If we run behind schedule with the arrival of the other tribes then we cut the horses until we have the time to add them in."

"How long does this normally take?" she asked, unable to help herself, as the tattooist finally made it to her lower back after several minutes working in silence.

"Several hours," Otrera said with a grin. "Bored yet?"

"A little bit," she admitted with a small smile in return. "Now that my brain has adjusted to the pain and I've learned my history lesson I have nothing to do."

"We could move you out into the open and give you your first hand-to-hand lesson. You wouldn't be able to participate but you could probably break down the movements just from watching and try it later," Helene suggested. Hermione agreed instantly and she was moved with little fuss out into the center of the camp. She spent the next several hours attempting to break down some basic martial arts moves, with varying levels of success, before looking at her watch as the sun started to shine through the trees.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, somehow ignoring the first sight of the tattoos under her watch. "I need to get back," she explained to the watching Ainia. The Amazon queen waved another woman forward, giving her orders in a low voice. Hermione was so frazzled by the time that she didn't even think to listen.

"The sickness has been held at bay for the night but it cannot be contained forever. Toebin will trigger the concealment charm on your tattoos and then remove the spell that's keeping you from feeling the effects. You have about 5 minutes before you're so sick you can't even walk. The portkey will put you back on your bed so you have most of the five to change into your bedclothes before getting back into bed for most of the day. You will be better by the time the sun sets, so we will see you tonight for the first of your lessons." Hermione nodded acquiescence, as Toebin started to chant. Within a few moments her tattoos had faded to clear un-inked skin.

"You have five minutes," the woman said quietly, stepping back. Hermione grabbed her necklace, smiled at Ainia, and activated the portkey. She paused once she hit her bed to make sure that the others were still asleep before disabling the wards on the curtains and creeping to the trunk at the foot of her four poster. She changed quickly out of the jogging clothes and into her P.J.'s before creeping back into bed and falling asleep.

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She was shaken awake an hour later by Lavender. "Hermione, you're going to be late for potions," she was informed. "Snape's going to kill you if you're late."

It took Hermione a few seconds to get reoriented and another few to realize that she should have been sick. Half a second later the nausea hit.

"Hermione?" Lavender started, frowning worriedly at her, "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

Hermione tried, and failed, to keep the vomit from rising in her throat but realized the futility of her efforts with just enough time to turn away from the perky Gryffindor and hurl over the side of the bed. She raised a shaky hand to wipe her mouth before cursing quietly, her voice shaking. She groped around on the bedside table for her wand, grabbing it so tight that her knuckles turned white and training it unsteadily at the mess on the floor.

"Evanesco," she croaked before putting her wand back on the bedside table and trying to bury herself under the covers as Lavender made sympathetic noises.

"Oh, honey," she crooned, rubbing Hermione's back, making her wince slightly as Lavender's hand rubbed small circles over her still sensitive, yet clear-skinned back. "I'll tell everyone you're sick, you just stay here and rest and I'll bring you some toast or something for lunch."

Hermione whimpered her thanks, afraid to move her head in case it triggered the nausea. Lavender gave her shoulder a light squeeze before standing, making the bed move in such a way that, even though Hermione was facing away from the Gryffindor witch she knew that she was about to be left alone for the rest of the day. Lavender grabbed Parvati by the arm, dragging the other girl closer to her as they talked in low voices, most likely about the very sick witch still lying in bed despite her deepest wishes to go to classes that day.

"She's so sick that she doesn't want to go to classes?" Ron exclaimed at breakfast later that same morning. Lavender shrugged, obviously not believing that Hermione Granger would choose to skip school for such a trifle as an illness. He turned to Harry as Lavender turned to return to her place at the other end of the table. "She must be really sick then," he commented, grabbing several slices of bread from a tray in front of him. 'Do you reckon that she's going to die?" he asked, shoving food in his mouth promptly.

"I dunno, Ron," Harry replied, fighting to keep the grin off his face at the sight of his best friend's eating habits. "We should probably visit her at lunch, though," he said thoughtfully as Morgan entered the room, scanning the tables for them before walking casually in their direction.

"Remember the stairs, though, Harry," Ron said in a spontaneous fit of brilliance. "I don't think she'll be up to coming down to see us if she's as sick as Lavender tells it."

Harry shrugged, making room for Morgan at the table next to him. "I'll think of something," he told Ron as she sat down. She peered at them curiously for a moment before sighing and grabbing the remainder of the toast left ton the tray.

"I don't want to know, do I?" she said lightly, scanning the table for more breakfast foods to go on her plate rather than look at the guilty expressions on their faces.

"Not really," Ron muttered around a mouthful of food, managing to only spray a few crumbs in her direction.

"Well, if that's settled, then," Morgan said, tossing her hair over a shoulder with a small, graceful laugh, "Could you pass the jam, Ron?"

Three periods later found the boys back in the Gryffindor Common Room with an armful of food, staring up the stairs to the girl's dormitories.

"There's no way, man," Ron said gloomily after a moment of respectful silence. "Hogwarts won't let any man set foot on those stairs."

Harry snapped as the idea popped into his head. "That's it, Ron," he exclaimed. Ron looked clueless. "'Set foot' is the key. We can fly up the stairs no worse for the wear as long as we don't step on the stairs, right?" Ron nodded.

"I'll go run and fetch our brooms, then," he said brightly. Harry stopped him.

"No need," he explained at Ron's questioning look. "I'll just summon them."

Within seconds they were headed carefully up the girl's staircase, making it without incident to the landing for the seventh years. They knocked and waited for a response, just to be safe, but when none came they entered anyway to find Hermione sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. Harry shook her awake.

"We brought you some food," Harry explained as soon as his friend's honey brown eyes somewhat focused on his face.

"Man, Hermione," Ron blurted, "you look horrible." Harry glared at him but he didn't seem to be affected, "What? It's true."

It was true. Hermione was pale and tired looking and what little of her arms and back they could see poking out from under the covers was red and irritated.

"Do you have any food allergies, Hermione?" Harry asked tentatively.

She gratefully grabbed the alibi. "I must," she croaked, too tired to start ranting about how whatever she had eaten hadn't affected her before. "Thank you for the food, you guys," she said quietly. Ron beamed at the praise while Harry continued to look worried.

"If you're not better by dinner you're going to see Madame Pomfrey," he said firmly.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Harry," she said with a weary smile.

He still looked dubious. "Alright then," he said finally, "we'll leave you to your lunch, then." He moved away from the bed shoving Ron towards the door in front of him in case the redhead wanted to stay and talk some more to the obviously sick witch.

That was when he smelled it, the faintest whiff of pine and magic that originated from somewhere in that room. Harry didn't recognize it even as he paused to try and sense more about the strange scent. Good or evil, friendly or malign, person or thing, he couldn't tell. He noticed that Ron was looking at him strangely from the doorway, broom in hand, and forced his legs to move again, filing away the feel of the room for later discussion with Morgan and Professor Morelock. He shut the door softly behind him and rode his broom down to the common room and back into a full day of classes that was still only just getting started.

Upstairs in her room Hermione looked unhappily at her red arm.

"I hate Amazons," she grumbled weakly, although her words had pure feeling behind them. Seconds later she was fast asleep.

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	4. Queens

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 4: Queens

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The first duty of a leader is to make himself be loved without courting love. To be loved without 'playing up' to anyone - even to himself.

~Andre Malraux

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Hermione slipped easily through the trees, silently passing through the snow and erasing her steps behind her. Every so often she would turn her head to scan the landscape behind her for her attackers. She didn't know where they were but she knew, with unnerving certainty, that they were coming.

She spotted a low hanging branch and flipped up onto it with a practiced grace. Pausing only to erase the marks of her passage before continuing she ascended, running lightly along the tops of the branches until she found a tree with heavy foliage. She crouched down in the crook of one of the branches and waited for someone to appear searching for her. As she waited she started to let her thoughts roam.

It was nearly Christmas and for once in her life she was not looking forward to spending time with her family and taking a break from the intensive training that she underwent as a student. Normally she wouldn't admit that even she enjoyed the break but with the tribe leaders scheduled to arrive any moment and her training going so well she was reluctant to take off even if she would be keeping up with the material herself. For the first time in what seemed like ages she had fit in to a group instantly and she hadn't even had that with Harry and Ron. The feeling of belonging was exhilarating and she couldn't bear to leave it, even just for Christmas holiday.

She stiffened as she heard snow crunch from below her and peered down through the branches as she stood carefully. The lone woman was looking carefully around her in every direction but up and Hermione took advantage of that oversight, diving from the tree without a second thought. She did a single rotation in the air before reaching the ground, landing at a point just behind her attacker. The woman whirled around at the noise only to spin right into Hermione's famous left hook, head turning at the impact. With a silent snarl she drew a long knife from her belt and charged.

Hermione deflected the blade with her armored forearm and kicked out, hitting the woman in the stomach and making her double over in pain. In an instant Hermione had moved behind her, twisting the blade arm with her in the process. A quick shove sent the woman sprawling and Hermione took the opportunity to reach behind her and draw her sword from its sheath. The woman started to get up, freezing as her back came in contact with the point of Hermione's sword.

"How many?" she asked dangerously.

"You know I can't tell you Hermione," her attacker replied, voice coming out muffled through the snow.

"Of course," Hermione replied, digging in the tip of the sword a little bit more, "But I'd also like to know if I'll be sitting here all friggin' day waiting of you to show up. And I can't hunt for them because this is a prey game. I'm freezing my knees off out here," she complained. She was dressed in warm furs and sensible knee high boots but her skirt left her knees bare to the elements.

"Well I've got my head shoved into the snow," the woman said sardonically, ignoring Hermione's plight. "Just tie me up will you."

Hermione grumbled but complied, tying the woman's hands and feet before magically suspending her above the ground and out of sight. Then she returned to her tree to wait.

It seemed that the sound of her skirmish had traveled a small distance when another figure entered the clearing, eyes moving restlessly. Hermione once again dived from the trees, trying the same attack as before. The other woman spun around quickly as Hermione started to flip and preformed a back flip kick that connected with Hermione's jaw just as she hit the ground, knocking her back a few feet. They both paused to eye each other, pulling their swords seconds later in near unison and starting to duel.

Watching it was like a dance of power and grace as they each dodged blows with and expert ease. For a few moments it continued so that one might have thought they were evenly matched but then Hermione's legs were swept from under her and she hit the ground with a thud. The sword tip was at her throat moments later.

"I win," the redhead woman said cheerfully, offering her hand for Hermione to take. "Lucky for you I'm the last of your attackers for today."

Hermione grimaced at the cheer but took the hand that was offered and let herself be pulled to her feet. She wordlessly climbed the tree and untied her captive before leaping down with agile nimbleness. Beside her, her first attacker rubbed her wrists as she hit the ground.

"Were you following me?" she asked the redhead suspiciously. "I fell for that trick fair and square but you seemed to know that it was coming."

The redhead laughed loudly. "Of course I was watching and I wasn't going to let myself get shoved facedown in the snow if I could help it."

Under her breath, Hermione cursed at the thought of having not noticed that she was being watched while she was fighting. The three Amazons headed back towards camp, joking easily with each other as they went.

When they reached the camp it was in a flurry of excitement and movement.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked a passing Amazon as they walked slowly into the bustling camp.

"The delegates are arriving soon," she said eagerly, "We only just got word of it. They'll be here in only a little while." She beamed at them in her excitement and hurried off to do her chores.

"Well I guess I should ask Ainia what I should do," Hermione said eventually to her two companions after they had stared after the hyper-active woman for a while in silence. The other two nodded their agreement and mumbled something about chores to do before they wandered off, leaving Hermione to make her way into Ainia's tent alone.

"I hear that the delegates will be arriving soon," she said as she entered the tent. "What should I do?"

Ainia was in the middle of the tent discussing things a little frantically with her two advisors, Otrera and Helene. "Hermione, I'm so glad that you're here," the Amazon queen said, stepping forward gratefully. "We didn't really prepare you for the actual visit, just for the skills you would need. So in half an hour we're going to try and teach you all of the etiquette and fit all of the ceremonial dress to you while organizing the camp cleanup efforts." Hermione nodded her assent. Helene picked up a pile of clothes and started holding them up to Hermione, trying to judge how well they would fit the newest Amazon. It seemed that she deemed them appropriate because Hermione found herself being undressed and redressed, the clothes in Amazon fashion that she had adopted for her forays into the forest going in a pile in the corner of the room only to be replaced by a set of similar but much more decorative clothes.

"The only real problem with your etiquette education is that we are lax at enforcing that you show us the proper respect. This is not a problem with just you," Otrera explained, "because we are very casual about titles in this tribe. Here we are all sisters and sisters do not bow to their sisters even if that sister was the Goddess herself. However, while the delegates of the other tribes are here we must be proper to each other and renounce the familiarities of sisterhood. Therefore we will be going over every mannerism that applies to every title as well as those that apply to the other members of the tribe so that you can refer to them properly. Now, as the only acknowledged queen Ainia is referred to as…"

The lessons continued for fifteen minutes with Otrera quizzing her on title-based formalities and Helene organizing her dress from her sandals to her hair. Most especially was what weapons she would carry.

"It has to be a sword," Helene stated firmly, moving to strap the sheath to Hermione's back.

"A sword is not my weapon of choice and I would rather not have to rely on my skill with it if something happens. I will carry the two sai and nothing more," she insisted, referring to the two knives that she usually wore strapped to her boots.

"Any Amazon will want to know that you take pride in your weapon and will want to see it in an obvious place. The sword is a suitable weapon for any Amazon and it is obvious that you carry it. The sai have none of those advantages."

"But they have advantage enough for my peace of mind, Helene," she said gently. "I keep the sai."

Outside the tent there was a shout and the three dashed out of the tent to join the welcoming committee for the delegates Hermione falling into step just behind Ainia who had changed into her formal attire as well.

"We welcome you to our camp, sisters," Ainia said, coming forward and giving the Amazon salute, a fist to her chest and a small bow. "We are here to discuss a solution to our dilemma about a great upcoming battle. The Amazon people cannot be left from this fight and our sincere hope is that we can come to an agreement over how to enter it. May I introduce what I believe to be our solution, Hermione Granger."

Hermione stepped forward as she was addressed, saluting the visitors before she said anything. Even then when she opened her mouth it was only for a small "Well met, sisters," before falling back and out of the limelight.

"My proposition is this," Ainia said later in her tent, where they had retired after a large feast and welcoming ceremony. "Hermione is our greatest way into the Light Side without being subject to anyone but ourselves. We would like to unite all Amazon tribes under her banner if only because she will not be under anyone's charge. Harry Potter views her as his equal and will listen to everything she has to say without question and will most likely follow her advice. He would never ask her to be second best to him and she would never accept if he did."

One of the tribe leaders sneered at Hermione. "She is only a girl, a student, and not Amazon born. How can she lead all of the tribes?"

Otrera spoke up. "I would gladly vouch for her skills in combat as well as in leadership. Her weaponry is such that I am not even sure on winning the bout anymore and everything she has learned has been in the last four months."

"If she is so good then I shall test her myself," said the rather Snape-like leader, standing up challengingly. "If I do not deem her a good candidate then I will withdraw my support."

The others started to protest this course of action as Hermione stood calmly and stared her opponent straight in the eye. "What weapons would you have us use?" she asked politely, inwardly seething.

The other woman cast around the room for a suitable weapon before selecting the sai. Hermione, who used them as her best weapon, only pulled the pair from her boots before nodding her assent. The group moved outside and the fight began.

Hermione started by dodging all of the attacks, blocking those that she couldn't step away from, but eventually she began to tire of the fight in general, especially since she could see that the other woman's arrogance was causing her to be sloppy. It was obvious that the woman wasn't going to stop until she had won or lost and the only way to get her support was for Hermione to win the bout. In a single move she had the blade up to the other woman's throat, taking advantage of the fact that the woman had not been fighting with even half of her skill, and that Hermione had merely matched her effort and not given her ruse away. At once the whispers sprung up.

"What cruelty is this?" one of the women asked angrily. Hermione half-turned to look at her incredulously.

"I don't know what you mean Drumelda," Ainia said calmly, ignoring the whispers.

Drumelda pointed at Hermione. "She was playing with her the whole time they were fighting and yet never made a move to win. What kind of mockery is this? We expected that you would have drilled her in manners by now Ainia."

"But she has," Hermione said easily, no longer the timid young girl who would have raised her hand before speaking. "I wanted to showcase my skill but I knew that you would not be satisfied until I won, or I lost. So I won. Had I done so at the first possible moment there would have been little for you to base your opinion on and I know that your decision is important to the future of all Amazons. Accept me as Queen or not but make your decision. We don't have the time to waste."

After a brief moment of silence another stepped forward. "We are ready to vote. Take a moment to confer with the others in your group and then send one representative to vote for your clan." After a moment a small circle had gathered around her and after a quick head count the voting started. "I will go first," the organizer said easily, holding out her hand with the thumb sticking out horizontally. "Yes," she stated as she flipped her hand so that she was now giving a 'thumbs up'.

Six more voters, out of the 18 that had gathered to represent their tribes, went the same way. Then the votes started to get mixed. With one vote left it was now a tie. This one vote, in the hands of the woman Hermione had dueled earlier, would decide her fate within the tribes. As if to make things worse for an anxious Hermione, the woman seemed to be arguing with herself. Eventually she came to a decision.

"Yes," she said, flipping her hand to show her vote but looking sour at the idea of Hermione winning. Hermione was the complete opposite: she could barely stop from screaming aloud.

"Then the meetings are adjourned and you all will be shown to your sleeping quarters. Those who wish to leave may do so in the morning and any who chose to stay and watch our new queen train to be so are welcome to stay for as long as they wish. This Amazon tribe is always open to visitors from other tribes," Ainia announced before hugging Hermione briefly. "You may leave as well for the night if you wish," she muttered to Hermione. "I will let you know if we decide anything about the date for your crowning tonight."

Hermione nodded gratefully before grasping her portkey and landing with a small thump on her bed, back in Hogwarts castle. In the forest Ainia smiled in her direction.

"Good luck, child," she whispered. "May all of your reign go as smoothly. I fear that it may not be so easy on you as it has been on me."

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Celdere swept majestically through the corridors of Hogwarts scattering students right and left as she did. Her twenty some odd group of followers only added haste and wonder to their motions as they dived out of the way. Celdere barely took notice of any of them, and neither did her retinue aside from those whose job it was to pay attention to them, as she glided towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

She had spent most of the morning in a small conference with the Headmaster and his Deputy about the coming war and how her childe was faring at Hogwarts this year. All of the reports had come out good, but Celdere was unsure how much of that to take at face value since she was positive that Minerva was afraid of her, even if she hadn't killed a mortal in over a century, and Dumbledore was wary enough to think twice before giving her all the information he knew. It made Celdere rather miss her dealings with the Werewolves and the Amazons, since neither pack nor tribe, respectively, had any problem whatsoever with dealing with a vampire. They respected her power as a dark creature, as she did for the Weres, and the skill with which she wielded it, as she did with the Amazons. She was respected for her age, which was considerable, and the amount of time she had managed to keep the vampire empire alive and flourishing through her leadership, which had also been for a large amount of time, but neither feared her at all. However, frightened witches and overly-cautious wizards were all that she had to work with this time around, since she could not hope to ally with the Amazons if she had already united her empire under Harry, and she had already done that. The proud race only dealt with her because she was a Queen; had she been a male ruler there would have been no alliance, however small and trivial.

Since she could not gauge the absolute truthfulness of the accounts given to her by Minerva although she knew with certainty that the woman would not dare lie outright, she had requested to take Morgan and Harry out of class for the time remaining until lunch for some good old-fashioned family time. It was nearly Christmas and they both would be coming home soon but she had promised Harry that he would be seeing her before then and she intended to keep her promise.

Celdere couldn't and didn't know that she was fulfilling Morgan's statement to Harry earlier in the term about walking around in broad daylight, and it was mostly due to her audacity that she managed to roam the halls without being recognized for what she was: a vampire queen. Of course, she had no way to know that the students who had a free period couldn't have put it together until she had already bitten them, and that they were simply staring at her because they could tell, both by her poise and her large following, that she was someone important. In the wake of Celdere's passage were only whispers and speculations.

She couldn't have cared less at the moment about speculations on who she was and why she was there; at the moment she only cared about getting to the right classroom. It was a confusing journey and she had to be the one who knew where to go, because she was in front as protocol demanded. Normally they could have walked in an informal clump but out in the world in front of visitors they were elite aristocrats with rigid standards. Her task was made slightly easier because of her keen sense of smell, the sense only having gotten stronger as the decades passed and she grew into her powers. She could have chased Harry and Morgan's scent around for hours in this castle and never actually run into them because their youth made them harder to smell and they traipsed all over the castle on a daily basis. Bryce, on the other hand, was older and followed the same routes to and from his rooms, the faculty lounge, his classroom, his office, and the Great Hall. It was easier to sniff out where he was, even despite the lingering scent of him all over the castle from his evening rounds, the scent being stronger in the areas more traveled.

On the way she engaged her fingers by endlessly signing out unneeded instructions on what they were to do. All of the members in her retinue had been prepped on the matter already at least twice, and others had preformed several similar functions for her over the last few decades. They knew what to do, but it was one of Celdere's quirks for her to obsess over every last detail. Even if no one knew they were vampires she liked to present the entire empire as one single well-oiled machine so that no one dared stand against her. If they were her posse, they reasoned, how were her warriors? A quick flash of her fingers as they grew closer and two members passed her easily to blast open the doors so that Celdere didn't even have to pause to walk through the doors in a regal flurry of robes. Her entrances were always on a grander scale. The two fell into step behind the rest of the group, which squeezed into the small classroom.

Both Harry and Morgan, along with Professor Morelock, had lifted their heads a moment before the doors were slammed open at the scent of vampires, in a group large enough to project the scent ahead of them, and with enough older vampires to make the scent stronger. The others of the class weren't so lucky as the noise distracted several people who were supposedly shooting spells at their partners across the room. The result was that a large conglomeration of spells went off in various directions, causing several students to have to duck hurriedly. Poor Neville, whose aim was already poor, managed to aim his spell directly at Celdere's head. The class, or those who were at liberty to watch, held their breath as the spell zoomed towards her head, a sure hit. And then Celdere simply wasn't there as the spell shot through the empty space where her head used to be. The spell fizzled into nonexistence as, just as suddenly, Celdere was there again, looking as if she hadn't moved and like nothing unusual had happened. The murmurs started up again as Morelock took a step forward, signing the traditional greeting along with the finger-bow. Morgan also finger-bowed and threw in a greeting only to get admonished by the Queen. Both apologized hastily.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Morelock asked verbally during this exchange, his voice hard.

"I would like a word with Miss VanPraet and Mr. Potter if I could," she said imperiously, the humble words sounding like an order coming out of her mouth. Much to the class' surprise, Morelock held his ground.

"May I inquire as to the reasons?" he asked courteously.

She fixed him with a fiery stare that he didn't flinch away from. "The Headmaster has cleared it personally," she said, not much of a reason but then again queens hardly explained their actions to anyone. They demanded and they got, simple as that.

"Of course," he said with a congenial nod. "Harry, Morgan, pack your things," he said without turning his head. It only took the two seconds to do so since they had been subtly levitating their things into their bags since Celdere had walked into the room. They only hesitated a moment before coming to stand in front of Celdere and her posse.

"Thank you Professor," she said icily. "I'm sorry for the interruption," she said before spinning on her heel and walking straight through the center of her ranks out the door. 'I will still be here at dinner,' she signed as Harry and Morgan fell into step behind her with small shrugs to their classmates. The rest of the vampires filed in behind them and the two at the end pulled the doors back shut with a loud bang that echoed down the hallway after them.

Both Morgan and Harry knew better than to say anything until they got to wherever it was that Celdere was leading them. This place appeared to be the guest tower, which Harry had suspected existed but had never actually been sure if it did and where it was located if the rumors proved to be true, which they did. Most of the retinue filed into other rooms to give the trio their privacy and only a few remained to stand outside the door as a guard, having dismissed themselves without preamble. Celdere shot their backs a grateful look and seated herself elegantly in a chair, motioning for the teens to do the same. Normally Morgan would have served the tea, had things been more public, but Celdere had once been a servant in a royal household and had learned to pour the cups and still did it out of habit. She had been tied to the courts for a long time, first as a lower servant in her early years and always coming back when there was no one left to recognize her in a higher position of wealth and influence. There had been a time where she had been second only to the Queen. After taking several sips they got down to business.

"So how has term been faring for you?" she asked carefully, taking another sip of tea.

"Boring," Harry said with a shrug as Morgan nodded her support of the statement. Celdere pursed her lips together.

"I find it hard to believe that any term at Hogwarts can be boring," she said expectantly.

"Well it can be, especially after having spent some time in a vampire fortress," Morgan added. "How exciting can it be if no one leaps out at you out of nowhere and tries to kill you?" she asked rhetorically. Celdere realized that she didn't have an answer for that, so she took another sip of her tea. Harry smirked.

"So, how are things in the empire, mom?" he asked, helping her to change the topic.

"Boring," Celdere said vaguely, waving a hand around airily. "Just trying to pull an army together and spread word of a fight with you at the forefront around. The usual," she said with a matching smirk.

Harry sighed in defeat. "Fine, don't tell us how much you've missed us," he responded, feigning heartbreak.

"You didn't tell me you missed me," she pouted at him. "In fact, I never even got a hug," she added. Harry grumbled good naturedly but set down his cup before crossing the room to give his mother a small hug and a kiss when she held up her cheek for one. "Much better," she said with a grin at Morgan who was laughing at Harry.

"So, truly nothing strange has happened yet?" Celdere probed again, knowing that given Harry's track record something had to have happened to them already. If it hadn't, well, that was simply not normal.

"Not that I can think of," he said, looking to Morgan for support. She frowned as she searched her memory.

"Other than the thing with Hermione, nothing," she agreed. Celdere leaned forward in interest.

"Has she figured it out then?" she wanted to know, interested to see if Hermione Granger's famous intellect was truly as good as the hype it was getting.

"No," Harry said absently. "But I'm not sure that this really has anything to do with her. She was sick at the beginning of term so Ron and I flew up the staircase to bring her food," he said, pausing as Celdere raised an eyebrow at him. "The stairs to the girl's dorms don't allow boys up them," he explained. The other eyebrow joined the first perfectly shaped brow. "She was really sick so we brought her some food," he defended himself. "She didn't even want to go to class and that never happens. Ever," he added. She relaxed slightly and he continued on. "Anyway, I was pushing Ron out of the room so that she could go back to sleep and this smell hit my nose that I didn't recognize," he said.

Celdere exchanged a glance with Morgan before responding. "What did it smell like?" she asked simply.

"Like trees," was the simple reply. "But not like any tree I had ever smelled before. And I know that no one was growing anything in the dorms, because it smelled like the forest, not just a plant, and of magic. It was weird," he concluded. Celdere had to agree.

"And you haven't smelled anything like it since?" she questioned. He shook his head 'no'. "Were you able to smell it?" Celdere asked Morgan. The dark haired girl shook her head as well.

"No one else has, not even Morelock," she explained.

"I see," Celdere said shortly. What smelled like a forest? "I'll ask Bryce about it tonight when he comes to visit but for now I wouldn't worry about it. I wish I could get closer to her, preferably alone, so that I could take a whack at it but unfortunately I would have no legitimate reason to get close enough. Just let me know if you smell it again, anywhere," she requested. Harry nodded.

The rest of the time passed quickly in a manner that was reminiscent of their summer spent together and soon enough the bell for classes to resume was ringing. Both teens stood.

"So we'll see you for Christmas, then?" Harry asked as he shouldered his bag. Across the room, Morgan mirrored his movement.

"Of course," Celdere said, as if offended that they even had to ask. She stood, shaking the folds of her wizarding robes free. She truly hated wearing the things but it was necessary for all of her diplomatic forays into the wizarding world. She wrapped Morgan in a hug, kissing the top of her head tenderly before releasing her. The raven-haired girl headed for the door as Celdere grabbed Harry in a similar hug.

"Be careful, okay," she said softly.

"I will, mom," Harry said, wriggling out of her grasp with a blush and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She gave him a dazzling smile as he jogged to catch up with Morgan and disappeared from view. Celdere sat down with a sigh. "This is why I never had children," she muttered, pouring herself more tea.

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	5. Discovered

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 5: Discovered

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There's a lot to be said for self-delusionment when it comes to matters of the heart.

~Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

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The next morning Morgan greeted Harry with a hug, as usual, and a flurry of singing, which was definitely out of the ordinary. He managed to pull her off to the side, grateful that Ron had only just been stumbling out of bed hen he came down.

"What?" he demanded.

"Your mother's retinue found a foreign presence in the Forbidden Forest yesterday," she repeated, this time out loud, her voice quiet but above a whisper to guard against eavesdroppers. Sibilant sounds, like whispers, carried better than mutters or other muted low-registered sounds, especially in places that echoed. Additionally, the quieter a deep voice got, the more indistinguishable the words became, blurring into a bass rumble that foiled most eavesdropping attempts.

"Do we know what it is yet?" he asked urgently, matching her tone out of reflex.

"Not yet, Morelock and I are planning on investigating tonight," she answered.

"Well I'm going with you," Harry said grimly. Morgan instantly protested. "No," he said, holding up a hand to stop her arguments. "If I go with you we gain the two extra men from my personal guard in case it's a problem that needs more of us to solve."

"Fine," Morgan said, blowing through her bangs in an exasperated manner. "But you'll need to come up with a cover story for us," she stipulated.

"Done," Harry said as Ron tumbled down the stairs at nearly the same time Hermione came down the girls stairway, looking much more awake than the redhead. "Are you ready for breakfast?" he asked Hermione with a brilliant smile, which she returned shyly.

"Of course," she said as they all headed down to breakfast.

Harry chose to wait until DADA to bring the subject up with Morelock, through the vampire signing.

'I'm going with you tonight,' Harry informed him as he blocked one of Morgan's spells. Morelock's eyes darted to Morgan, who must have signed something with a touch of helplessness in it because the professor nearly rolled his eyes before responding.

'No.'

'Why not?' Harry asked, sending a spell back at Morgan with a little more force than was necessary.

'Because you're a prince and we need you alive for this whole tactic to work out in the long run,' Bryce explained patiently as he corrected one of the Patil twins' wand movements.

'But we don't know what it is out there and if I go you gain two guards plus a fighter,' Harry argued. Morelock strode over to Harry and Morgan.

"No, Mr. Potter," he said quietly.

Harry stared at him defiantly. "You can't stop me," he pointed out snidely.

"Very well," Morelock said through gritted teeth. "Detention with me tonight, Mr. Potter," he said silkily, in a very passable imitation of Snape. Harry was pretty sure that the man hadn't been trying for a Snape spoof when he said it though.

Morgan shot him a knowing look, and a smug flurry of sign language. "Miss VanPraet, you may come as well. I hope you both enjoy the Forbidden Forest, I hear the Werewolves are lovely," Morelock snapped before turning on his heel and concentrating on another pair. Harry met Morgan's eyes as he blocked another spell.

'You shouldn't have pulled rank on him like that,' she lectured.

'I know, but he wouldn't have let me go otherwise,' he growled at her as he sent another spell her way. The drill was beginning to become boring for him.

'He'll find some way to get back at you for it,' she reminded him as she ducked under it. 'Your aim is getting sloppy,' she observed coolly. He snarled wordlessly at her.

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Roughly ten hours later, Hermione's attention was drawn to the five prisoners being dragged into camp. She wordlessly cast a glamour on her features, changing her hair to a darker shade and making her face a little more angular before approaching the Amazons who had obviously found them.

"Let go of me," a familiar voice yelled as one of the prisoners started to struggle.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow at the Amazon squad. She carefully kept her eyes away from the prisoners, three of whom she was startled to see that she recognized.

"We found these scum crawling around in the underbrush spying on the camp, my queen," one of them said with a respectful salute. Hermione noticed, as she examined the prisoners carefully, as was the queen's duty, that there was only one girl among them and that she was being treated less roughly then her male companions.

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And what do you have to say for yourselves?" she asked, directing the question at the woman. It was the man who had shouted earlier who answered though.

"I demand that you let go of me," he said icily. "You have no idea who you are dealing with." The woman holding him cuffed him over the head roughly but Hermione's raised hand kept her from doing anything other than that and the warning she issued. "Speak when spoken to, spy," she growled before backing down.

"Would you care to enlighten me?" Hermione asked idly.

"I am Harry Potter, a vampire prince and heir apparent," Harry said boldly. "And I demand that you let me go before vampires descend on your pitiful little group."

"So the Boy-Who-Lived has surrendered his mortality to the vampires," she said, slightly surprised. "I had heard they were fighting on your side but I did not know that you were one of them," she added, curiosity satisfied for the moment as an unidentifiable sadness struck her. His situation was incredibly unfair, and the fact that he was no longer mortal, coupled with association with dark creatures, and living a life of lies made him much less the Harry she had though she knew. Of course, he was not the only one who had been keeping secrets all school year long, it seemed, and she connected the story Harry had spun about his summer to the lie he had created to hide his vampirism from the rest of them. Had Hermione been less focused on herself and her own training and secret keeping she would have noticed long ago, now that she had the answer it was easy to look back and see the clues. And now the Amazons had been discovered, because she had not seen the signs in her own best friend, and they were in an impossible situation. Protocol demanded that the spies be punished for their actions, especially as Morgan was the only female among them, and males spying on their camp was a worse offense. She was still Queen here, and she had to play her part as Harry was playing his. There would be no revealing herself before she had done the Amazon thing to do.

"Still," she continued, dragging the words forth from a place within her that was cool and untouched by her sadness and inner turmoil, the place where the Amazon Queen lived. "These are Amazon lands and as such I am free to do what I want and you are punishable by Amazon laws. You were found spying on my camp and the punishment for that is death, Harry Potter," she said silkily. "Of course, your female companion will get off much lighter," she added showing the incredible favoritism that Amazons showed towards females of any sort, criminal or not.

Harry just stared at her defiantly. Hermione sighed at the thought of setting him up for an execution.

"However, since you are a prince and Amazons have enjoyed a friendly relationship with Celdere for years I will cut you a bargain. You and I will fight and if I win you will surrender to my decisions. If I lose then you will walk free," she said with a grin, hands spread wide.

"Choose your weapon," he spat with a cocky smile. Hermione could see now how exactly Harry had changed over the summer. It had been obvious to her that he had, and that his act to remain the same wasn't quite working for him, but she had had no idea how much he was keeping hidden. This vampire Harry was nearly Draco Malfoy's twin, although that could have had something to do with the stress of being prisoner against someone other than Voldemort. She suddenly wanted very badly to best him in a fight.

"Sagaris. Double sagaris," she said calmly, after a moment's deliberation. Choosing a bladed weapon when he obviously carried so many on his person would have been a foolish choice. Harry was fighting to keep his face from going pale, since he had no idea what they were, judging by the look on his face. She smirked as he fought the urge to look at any of his companions and held out her hands, taking a hold of the wood under her fingertips as both weapons were pushed into her hands. Another Amazon threw two of the short axes to the ground at Harry's knees, since he hadn't been released yet. The rest of the camp had formed a ring around them, with the vampires still bound in the center along with Hermione and two of her serving ladies, of sorts. One of them took off her headdress while the other unclasped her necklace before backing into the circle, leaving Hermione to heft the two single-edged weapons and move forward. "Pick them up," she said imperiously, nodding to the guard to let go. They moved back, like the other two had, melting into the circle dragging all but Harry with them. Neither Morgan nor Professor Morelock looked too happy about this entire ordeal. Harry looked like he was going to say something stupid, probably to attempt to pull rank on her, but though better of it, picking up the weapons and standing fluidly.

"How does it feel to be the Boy-Who-is-an-Undead, Potter?" she asked, acting every inch the queen that she was. She hated pulling rank on her friends but Amazons chose to fight fire with fire and it was obvious that Harry was more than willing to stoop that low. She sadly wondered if this summer had changed him that much, or if it was just an act.

Her barb worked and he lunged at her, swinging wildly. As she spun to avoid the rush, letting her axes twirl in a nice kamikaze (as she had named it) towards his head, she realized that he was unused to having the unbalanced weight. She could use that as an advantage. In the meantime, however, Harry had managed to end up on his back so that her two blades came down right onto his. He pushed them back easily and leapt to his feet. She spun again keeping both blades close together and aiming for a slice at his stomach, which he blocked, before spinning again, hands widening so suddenly that he had to fall backwards to avoid them. Upset, he moved to the offensive.

He seemed to be favoring low sweeps, all of which she was able to sidestep or jump over, which surprised her, given how she had read of a vampire's heightened strength and speed, none of which he had really shown at that point in the fight. Either he was holding back on her, or the books she had read were wrong. She started another jump, the latest in a long string of them, and realized too late what he was doing. His axes flashed upwards to where her head would have been. With a surge of power she managed to turn her nimble leap into a flip, kicking him in the chin and throwing him backwards as she continued to flip upwards, landing easily after the second rotation. Harry was staggering to his feet, hand to his mouth, which was bleeding, and anger in his eyes.

"You have some pretty strange words for an axe, Amazon," he sneered, pulling his hand away from his face. Hermione could have sworn that he was channeling Malfoy at the time.

"Well, it has been called a sagaris far longer than it has been called an axe, vampire," she said haughtily, noticing how neither of them were breathing hard. "You could hardly tell that we invented them with the speed in which the Scythians caught onto the idea," she continued, falling into lecture mode as they circled. "They're the perfect blend of a tall axe and daggers," she added. "The attacks become incredibly graceful because of the weight distribution's inequality. You need momentum to swing them, but not too much to make fighting clumsy." He sneered at her as he circled. "They lost the best fighters in the world when we disappeared," she said proudly. The reason that the sagaris had survived in the Amazon world was simply because they were suited more towards female fighters, though they were less precise than a sword or bladed weapon. It had been risky, but she had gathered that since no one used axes anymore, since they were so unevenly weighted and required so much momentum to get such an imprecise attack, that he would not have been trained to deal with anything too uneven in weight. She speculated the closest thing to a sagaris he had trained with was a broadsword.

"Fighters perhaps," Harry relented. "Or do you have brains as well? I doubt that you could tell me, with all of your education and schooling, what powdered root of Asphodel mixed with an infusion of Wormwood would get me," he commented snidely. Hermione saw his eyes flash with anger; apparently he was still holing a grudge for Snape. Of course, having been in class that day and having known the answer before it had been given, it was easy to recite Snape's response back.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death." He was gaping at her in shock. He started to ask another question, but she cut him off, taking a guess at where he was going next and sending him on the defensive as the axes spun into motion again. "A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well?" she asked tauntingly as he stopped moving entirely after parrying her last attack. Out of pity for him, and a desire not to accidentally behead him, she stopped as well. She was having a lot of fun messing with his head, and had nearly forgotten the high stakes she was gambling with.

"Hermione?" he whispered incredulously, too low for anyone but her to hear it. Shocked to the point of panic, she did the only thing that came to mind. She knocked him out with a punch to the jaw, the axe that had been in her hand falling to the floor, winning the match. Two Amazons came to support him, even though he was out cold, while the other vampires were dragged back into the center of the arena. She held the other sagaris out to the Amazons who approached her to take them away, still too stunned to realize that she dropped the weapon the instant her arm was fully extended. Luckily there were already hands close enough to the axe to catch it as it fell. She could feel the fingers clasping her necklace back on and putting the headdress back on, though it was as if they were somehow not fully there.

The arena was silent, waiting for her to give the prisoner's punishment, but Hermione's brain was still too shocked to fully function.

"I have changed my mind," she said finally. "There will be no death today." She gestured to the guards holding Harry and told someone to bring the woman to her tent, turning her back on the Amazons who were celebrating her victory rather loudly.

Hermione seated herself blindly, barely noticing as Morgan was brought in and shoved roughly to the floor. The guards backed out quietly, sensing that it wasn't the time for any distractions for the queen.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry." She felt terrible about what she had done to him, even if she wouldn't have done it had she been thinking properly. She remembered that she was still wearing the glamour, not that it had done much good, and removed it with a wave of her hand as she removed the headdress with the other, freeing her distinctively bushy hair to cascade down her back.

Morgan gasped, the sound loud in the smaller space. Hermione didn't turn around at the noise but she had a feeling that she knew what was coming. Harry still hadn't stirred, making her feel even guiltier about having hit him over the head.

"Hermione?" Morgan whispered incredulously. Hermione nodded without turning around. "How?" It seemed that the vampire was full of questions.

"I would have thought it was obvious," Hermione started, staring at Harry's face. "The Amazons wanted a way in and Harry wasn't it and neither was Celdere. I was as close as they could get without the affiliations getting in the way," she said simply, absent-mindedly rubbing her arms, where the tattoos were inked into her skin. She let them show so that she could trace the pattern with a nail. Morgan's head reeled back as if someone had hit her.

"Oh my God," she said, making Hermione turn around suddenly.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"You just radiate Amazon," Morgan said, astonished. "Harry was right."

"What do you mean 'Harry was right'?" she asked, not understanding.

"That day you were sick," Morgan explained. "Harry caught a hint of something as he was leaving your room, but he couldn't identify it. It must be those tattoos," she added wonderingly.

"That's why I was sick," Hermione said slowly. "The tattoos needed time to sink into my magic. He could sense that?"

"Only when they're visible, I suppose, since I only just got a whiff of them. My guess is that they were giving off the same feeling when they were sinking in, but not as strongly since they weren't visible."

Hermione's mouth opened soundlessly before she closed it again. "That's amazing," she finally managed before returning her concentration to her best friend, who still hadn't so much as twitched.

Morgan smiled at Hermione's back. "You love him, don't you?" she asked smugly, a knowing grin on her face.

"Huh?" Hermione said absently, as if she hadn't heard, but Morgan could see the other witch tense up the moment the words had reached her ears. Normally Morgan hated to repeat herself, but it was worth it this time to watch the Amazon Queen squirm.

"You love him, don't you?" she asked again, continuing blithely even though Hermione hadn't answered. The quick spin to face her had been enough of an answer. "He does too, you know, even if he's never said it to anyone, even if he doesn't even realize it himself."

Hermione's voice came out a lot more unsteady than she would have liked. "We're just friends, and I don't think any of us want anything more," she lied.

"You're the only person I would approve of for the post," Morgan said, as if Hermione hadn't spoken. Both women knew the words for lies so why bother to acknowledge them? "The instant we met I could tell that you had the same thing for Harry that everyone else on the train had for him. I prepared myself to tell yet another teenaged girl with raging hormones that I wasn't Harry's girlfriend. You were the only person who didn't ask me if I was. You were the only person who didn't seem to care if he was or not. You were also the only person who loved him enough that you would be happy for him if I had been his girlfriend, just so that you didn't ruin what you already had. All of the others treated him like something to be won and then guarded from other women's advances. Ambition only ever breeds jealously. You were the only one who could have been content, perhaps not as content as you might have liked, knowing that he was happy with some other woman. I respect you for that, Hermione," Morgan said.

"He doesn't like me anyway," Hermione said abruptly, turning her head away as a silver tear escaped down her face so that Morgan wouldn't see the Amazon cry. "He could never want me like that, just like Ron never did. He only used me for homework and snogging," she said bitterly. "He didn't even want me because he thought I was pretty; why should anyone be any different?"

"Harry is," Morgan said simply. "You should have heard him this summer, prattling on about the two of you as if you were the best things since sliced bread. He has tremendous faith in you and your abilities, Hermione, and you can tell by the way his eyes light up when he talks about you that he's in love. The Hermione that I was expecting based on what he had said was beauty and brains rolled into one; that Hermione was going to take one look at him and know he was a vampire because of miniscule mannerisms that he had. Then you were going to cite back dozens of books on how vampires were misunderstood creatures to make him feel better. Ron would alienate him if he knew; but Harry always knew that you would stick by him. Not that you aren't any of those things," Morgan added. "But according to Harry, you're nothing short of a Goddess."

"I never knew," Hermione whispered. I never said anything because I thought he didn't feel the same. Our friendship was so important that I was willing t risk being alone and unhappy just so that he could be with whomever he wanted. I was such an idiot."

"You're never an idiot," said a voice from behind her, barely managing to get the words out. Hermione's focus instantly snapped to him, holding him down as he tried to sit up in the small cot she had placed him on.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," she said, voice already muffled with tears that were now streaming down her face. "I don't know what I was thinking, but you surprised me and it was the first thing that came to mind and then I felt so horrible and they're out there celebrating and I've just been sitting in here worried sick that I've seriously injured you and chatting with Morgan while we waited for you to wake up and I was just so sure that you were going to have amnesia or a bad concussion or something else horrible and that you were going to wake up and find that you were a vampire and that you had to kill this a guy and you were going to blame yourself and-" Hermione was quite sure that she could have kept babbling on while crying her eyes out over Harry's not-so-unconscious form but Harry stopped her.

"Whoa, slow down, Hermione," he said soothingly, sitting up as the hand that had been holding him down flew to her mouth as she realized that she had just babbled all of her secret fears to him. "You can relax and breathe; I'm fine. See, I can sit up and everything," he said, grabbing her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes as she tried to look at the floor. Still, she bit her lip in worry.

Time seemed to stop as Harry's observant eyes took in that small gesture and her plump, red lips. Why hadn't he ever noticed how gorgeous the woman in front of him was? Well, he had, at the Yule Ball, but he had thought it had been a passing thing, hormones perhaps. Nearly every pleasant memory that he cherished had her in it as the starring lady, and the little voice in his head even sounded like her. He was in love, he realized suddenly, and he had been for quite some time. How could he have been so stupid?

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" he asked, more like blurted suddenly. Morgan discreetly stood and left the tent, but neither saw her go.

"What?" Hermione asked quickly, heart hammering in her throat. He couldn't have just said that, she though to herself as her mind raced. At least this time her panic wouldn't cause her to knock him out.

"I love you, Hermione Granger, and I have for quite some time, but I only just realized it now," he said calmly, having come to terms with what he was telling her faster then she could come to terms with being told.

She had heard right. "Oh Harry," she said softly. Then she leaned forward and kissed him passionately. He stiffened almost instantly, probably from shock, and she made to pull away but his hand on her chin prevented her from doing so. When it was clear that she wasn't going to run away he let go and twined his arms around her waist. He marveled at how natural it felt to hold her like that as she relaxed into his mouth. She had been worried that she had been too bold, in fact, she was wondering what had come over her that made her act so brashly, but since he didn't seem to mind she let herself commit to the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck lazily. When they broke apart for air both were panting and Hermione's face was turning a pretty shade of pink. "I love you too," she said breathlessly, pulling him into an embrace. He kissed her temple softly.

"I can't believe that I didn't see it before, Hermione," he said quietly, not wanting to ruin their moment of tranquility by speaking loudly. "Can you forgive me for being such an idiot?"

She drew back do that she could look him in the eyes. "Only if you can forgive me for not telling you how I've felt for so long," she said. "I was so worried that I'd lose you as a friend that I didn't care if you were with someone else so long as I hadn't ruined our friendship. We were both idiots," she concluded.

"I could never argue with your logic," he said with a smile, leaning forward to press his lips to hers. This kiss was unhurried and languid, with all of the passion from their first kiss rolled into agonizing slowness. Hermione wanted nothing more than to jump on him. Still, when they broke apart she was straddling him, the chair that she had been sitting in had been forgotten, and his arms were the only things keeping her from falling off of his lap.

"Mmmmhh," she said, eyes fluttering open. "Let's go celebrate," she added with a mischievous grin, moving her arms from around his neck and reluctantly moving from his lap to drag him by the hand into the celebration outside the tent. She gave him a soft kiss and threw herself into the ring of dancing Amazons while Harry watched, dry-mouthed, as she moved in ways that he would have never thought she could, or would have. Amazons were hot, he thought stupidly, his bran not functioning quite properly. Hermione was hot, his brain added. It was a good thing that she was an Amazon, he concluded before going to stand next to Morgan, who was smiling up at him.

"It's about bloody time," she said, punching him in the arm as soon as he got close enough. "You two must have been the only people who didn't know; poor, stupid things," she added. Harry bristled, but his scowl was a good-natured one. "When are you going to tell everyone else?" she asked after Harry had spent a moment staring at Hermione's dancing form through the flames of a large bonfire.

"I don't think we ever will tell anyone," Harry said after a moment of thought. "We'll act however we want to and let them decide if we're together or not. I don't think we have to announce it to the entire wizarding world that we're in love, even if I want to. Doing that would be something I'd regret," he said firmly as Hermione detached from the ring of dancers and made her way over toward the two of them, walking right past an astonished Morelock without a glance. She was breathing hard but she had a wide smile on her face. Almost instantly she wrapped Morgan into a large hug.

"Thank you," she said as the vampire looked questioningly at her before giving Harry a quick peck on the lips. Hermione had no idea why today, of all days, she was being so open with her affections, when she had never wanted to kiss anyone in public before, but she passed it off as being so elated.

"It's nearly dawn," she said, knowing that the Amazons would dance all night and all day without her there. "We should probably head back towards the castle."

Harry looked around, unable to see the sun through the thick foliage. "How can you tell?" he asked, after vainly trying to figure out the answer for himself.

"It's an Amazon thing," she said with a shrug. "Anyway, you can gather your groupies together while I say my goodbyes and we can be off, okay?" Hermione asked. Harry and Morgan just nodded their assent as the Amazon wandered easily back into the circle of dancers to say goodbyes.

"So, when is she going to meet your mum?" Morgan asked as they watched her retreating back. Morelock was still gaping at Hermione in shock.

Harry took a moment to think about it. "I dunno," he said eventually.

"Well, that clears that up," Morgan cackled as Bryce walked up to the two.

"What is Miss Granger doing here?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"She's the one who clubbed Harry over the head," Morgan said matter-of-factly. "What do you think about Christmas?" she asked Harry, ignoring the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Harry nodded. "It's a possibility," he said with a smile. "By the way," he said to Bryce, "We're leaving in a few minutes, so get ready to leave." The vampire left without a word. "What do you think?" Harry asked Morgan.

She didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "I told her already that I approve of you two. She didn't think you had feelings for her at all, can you imagine?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond but closed it again as Hermione once more rejoined the group.

"Ready?" she asked with a grin.

Harry couldn't help but grin back at her. "Of course," he replied. He motioned to the other group that they were leaving as he and Morgan were dragged out of the clearing.

The two younger vampires kept up a light stream of chatter while the elder undeads stayed in a group at the rear of the train with Hermione leading the way back to the castle.

"You guys must have taken the longest possible route to us," she called back as she crossed a set of footprints near the forest edge that were headed perpendicular to the course that they had traveled to get out of the forest.

Harry took the last few steps that he needed to catch up to her entirely. "Obviously we'll know to take along an expert like you the next time we try to find the Amazon camp," he said with a grin, bending slightly to kiss her. Hermione pushed him away with a gentle shove and a quiet laugh. Knowing that the others could find their way back to the castle on their own, now that they were at the forest edge, the three teens made their way across the grounds and through the silent hallways without encountering anything unpleasant.

Once back in the common room Morgan headed up the girl's staircase almost instantly, obviously to give Harry and Hermione some alone time.

"Well, goodnight, Harry," Hermione said with a smile as the first rays of sunrise flooded the room.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said with a laugh. "See you in half an hour," he added.

"Of course," she replied, puling his head down to hers for a quick but passionate kiss before heading up the stairs herself. Harry stared at the stairs for a moment before heading up to take a shower of his own.

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	6. A Normal Christmas?

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 6: A Normal Christmas

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If you ever start feeling like you have the goofiest, craziest, most dysfunctional family in the world, all you have to do is go to a state fair. Because five minutes at the fair, you'll be going, 'you know, we're alright. We are dang near royalty.'

Jeff Foxworthy

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Over the next few days Harry, Morgan and Hermione became more familiar with the double lives the others had been living: Harry and Morgan learning about the Amazon tribes while Hermione learned about the Vampire coven. It was nice to finally come clean about things to someone, and the chats gave Harry and Hermione a chance to be together more, since her busy nights training and his busy days of training conflicted. Hermione was so pleased to hear that Harry had finally found happiness somewhere, even if it was with vampires, that, when Harry asked her to stay with him for Christmas she felt bad for declining.

"You might still see me anyway," she added mysteriously, the words obviously meant as a comforting thing. They only served to confuse Harry.

"How will that happen?"

"Oh, you know," she replied with an airy gesture. "Business. I will have to take time off from my snowboarding though," she added.

"I thought you skied with your family," Harry said.

"I did," Hermione admitted. "Snowboarding is much more aggressive."

"Well, even if you aren't coming over to spend the holiday with me, I still want you to meet mom, informally of course," he added hastily. "She's clearing her ever-busy schedule to pick me up in person, and even if she can be a bit imposing when you don't know her, I still want you to be introduced at least. That way you can show up in disguise or not when you're on business and surprise the three of us," he said temptingly.

"Fine," she said with a smile, claiming his lips with hers, not even hesitating at the thought of having to meet the formidable Vampire Queen.

Several days later Hermione was being propelled off of the school train as she tried to catch sight of herself in any reflective surface she could find, and not feeling as if the agreement she had made with Harry days ago was so 'fine'.

"You look fine," soothed Harry. Morgan, on the other hand, was not quite as tactful.

"Oh cowgirl up!" she hissed as she shoved Hermione down the corridor. "Are you an Amazon or not?"

It was apparent that this question stung, but Hermione didn't actually stop walking willingly until Harry and Morgan pushed her off the steps and onto the platform. The her head came up and she grabbed Harry's hand, letting him lead her to Celdere and her retinue, which was suitably disguised for the event. Harry gave the Queen a hug and a kiss before stepping back to stand next to Hermione.

"Mom," he started. "This is my friend Hermione. Hermione; my mom, Celdere duBourg."

The two women shook hands amicably, with a few "pleased to finally meet you"s, exchanged in between. The Harry broke the news, although Celdere's sharp eyes had already picked out the clasped hands.

"Hermione and I are dating," he said with a smile. Celdere gave him a raised eyebrow in sign language as she favored Hermione with a dazzling smile.

"Congratulations," she said, recalling that this girl supposedly had an odd scent to her. Trees or something Harry had said. Whatever it was, she couldn't smell it now.

Hermione blushed prettily. "Thank you."

"I know that it's terribly late notice, Hermione," the vampiress continued, "but would you like to stay with us for the holidays? We have a rather large house and it can get quite empty. I'm sure Harry would love to have you."

"Thank you for the invitation, Miss duBourg," Hermione said, quickly recalling the last name Harry had given the other woman. "But I'm afraid that I'm going on a ski vacation with my parents for Christmas this year."

"Perhaps another time, then?" Celdere asked, rectifying the situation easily.

"I would love to," Hermione responded eagerly. "Speaking of my parents," she said, spotting them out of the corner of her eye. "They just arrived so I'd better join them."

"Promise you won't be a stranger over Christmas," Harry ordered seriously, turning her to face him.

"Of course not, as long as you promise the same," she stipulated with a happy smile. Harry nodded solemnly. "It was a pleasure meeting you," she said to Celdere, who inclined her head regally. With one last lingering kiss for Harry she disappeared into the crowd to find her parents and her luggage.

Two sharp sets of vampire eyes watched her go.

"I didn't smell it," Celdere said to Harry in an undertone as two vampires came up to them with Harry's things.

"You will, mom," he replied with a laugh as his mother pulled him closer to her with one arm. With a few soft pops, all of the vampires vanished. Almost instantly, the slightest bit of homesickness for the home he had with the vampires vanished, and was replaced with an equally intense longing for Hogwarts and his girlfriend. Even with Hermione's almost-promise to see him over the holidays, Harry couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her. Even his usual activities around the large fortress seemed boring, even with Morgan for company. Somehow, Morgan just wasn't enough anymore. The days he spent with Celdere were the closest that he could get to what he wanted. But Christmas was only a few days away and Harry was still waiting to hear from his girlfriend, especially since Celdere had been locked away in her office for the last few days with a mysterious client. It was obvious that Celdere didn't want to tell him who it was.

The Vampire Queen's behavior lasted all the way until Christmas morning, where Harry was surprised to find her in the dining hall for breakfast. He hadn't been sure that she would have taken the time away from her busy schedule to come down. She had, and she was ready to open presents.

Harry had gotten his mother a red winter cloak, lined with dark gray furs and glistening with silver embroidery. Celdere had given him several blades and a few books, along with clothing for formal occasions, most bearing her crest: the crest of the vampire royal family. It was a wonderful gesture towards making Harry belong. He had gotten the usual Weasley sweater along with some fudge baked by Mrs. Weasley, as well as a seeker gloves and a Gryffindor shirt from Ginny and Ron. Fred and George had sent along some samples of their products, which he couldn't wait to start planting. He was not expecting the last present from Celdere.

"I saved this present for last because I was unsure of how you would react," Celdere started, looking kindly down at him from her wing-backed armchair. Harry, in the true manner of all children on Christmas, had decided to seat himself on the floor while Celdere, who had celebrated several hundred Christmases, had seated herself in a chair to keep her dignity intact. This statement piqued Harry's curiosity.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to keep the overwhelming need to know from showing. Celdere would draw it out just to mess with him and he knew it.

"Well," Celdere began delicately, "It's not so much of a 'what' as it is a 'who'." Now Harry really wanted to know 'who' it was.

"Okay," he said slowly. Celdere made a beckoning gesture behind her and the vampire who had been standing guard by the door instantly left the room to return moments later with a cloaked figure. The guard then left the room quietly. The cloaked figure stepped from the shadows by the door and took several graceful, seductive steps forward until she was standing just behind and to the left of Celdere's chair. Harry strained to see under the hood but, even with his angle, could not see anything but shadows.

He could tell that she was a woman thanks to her light, delicate footsteps, her pale hands with the perfectly shaped and polished fingernails, and the elegant purple dress that she wore. It was made of silk, the smooth fabric clinging to her every curve to accentuate her small waist, her large hips, and her firmly rounded breasts. It was covered by a black velvet cloak that lightly brushed the tops of her delicate silver flats that peeked out from the hem of her violet dress.

Harry stood instantly to make a large courtly bow, realizing that the woman must be someone important. He had a very strong feeling that this woman was the reason that Celdere had been shut away for several days. Another gesture from Celdere had the woman lifting her pretty hands to her hood, throwing it back with a swift movement to reveal a long curtain of black hair.

She had clear, porcelain skin that contrasted beautifully with the raven colored hair that elegantly framed her face. Her lips were full and red, nearly cast into shadows by her high, prominent cheekbones. Violet eyes stared out uncertainly at him from under heavy eyelids. She was beautiful. She was familiar.

In a flash Harry had grabbed one of his new knives from the large stack at his feet and poised it to throw even as her hands went to the tie of her cloak and undid the bow, letting the garment fall to the floor at her feet. Celdere stood calmly, her posture making it clear that she would stand between Harry and the newcomer if needed. The Gryffindor relaxed, but only slightly.

"Harry Potter, this is-," Celdere started the introductions but Harry didn't need them.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he finished sardonically. "We've met," he added shortly.

Bellatrix's head shot up defiantly as he named her, eyes reflecting fury. Harry couldn't tell who it was directed at.

"Its Bellatrix Black now, Potter," she said scathingly.

"Oh, did Rodolphus finally kick the bucket, then?" he asked mockingly, remembering her taunts from the Ministry of Magic a year and a half ago. "Or did you finally realize what a cheat that Death Eater really was?"

Bellatrix took a step forward, the snarl on her face transforming it from beautiful to ugly in one instant. Celdere smoothly put a hand out, catching Bellatrix in the chest and preventing her from moving forward.

"Harry," Celdere began, her voice holding an obvious warning tone, "Bellatrix has come to us for help. Very few know it, but she, herself, is a vampire and was, up until a few days ago, the leader of the Vampire Resistance. As you know, we have been working very hard to find those of ours who are betraying you, and therefore committing treason, to either recruit them back to our side or kill them, which ever they chose. Bella has been on our list of people to find for quite some time and recently agreed to reform her ways. She no longer wishes anything to do with Voldemort or Rodolphus but has offered herself up to give us information that we can use. In exchange, we have agreed to protect her from the Ministry and Voldemort should either come knocking on our door for her."

Harry glanced at Bellatrix. "How do we know she isn't just using us?" he demanded. "Something like that is right up her alley."

"Harry!" Celdere exclaimed, this time openly admonishing him. "The Vampire Nation may not be as close as the Amazon tribes are when it comes to siblinghood, but we look after our own as much as we can. She is our own, and she has agreed to our terms. She deserves to be accepted for what she has done. Not all vampires are sunshine and daisies," she finished firmly. "I will hear no more about it from you or anyone else. I merely thought that you should know she was here before you killed her in the halls," she said primly, turning to Bellatrix. "I'm so sorry, Bella," she said as the door opened to admit Morgan and another strange figure. Harry saw the fire flash in Celdere's eyes. Morgan must have too, because she hastily dropped a curtsey, something that the queen would have scolded her for had she been in a better mood.

"My apologies, my queen," Morgan muttered demurely, gesturing the other woman forward. Harry saw Morgan's eyes flicker from him to Bellatrix, who hadn't re-cloaked herself, with a hint of recognition. "May I introduce Aurelia, the new Queen of the Amazons?" Harry looked up curiously. Was it Hermione in disguise?

The figure in front of him threw off the hood to her cloak and undid the ties, letting the garment fall to the floor. Where Bellatrix's movement had been tinged with seduction the only hint of emotion in the Amazon's action was anger. Aurelia's hands were shaking in anger and the emotion was painted clearly across her pretty features. The woman's clothes resembled the ones that Hermione had been wearing when he had first found out who she had become, the tan knee-high boots beaded and embroidered to match her hip-hugging skirt that barely skimmed mid-thigh. There was a considerable gap between the waistline of her skirt to the bottom edge of her shirt, which resembled a bikini top more than an actual garment. She wore a large necklace beaded with turquoise and the several rawhide strips woven up her forearms with more turquoise threaded onto the ends of the strips. Her tanned skin was flawless, making the tattoos inked into her skin stand out even more while making the stunningly copper shade of her wavy hair seem to sparkle of it's own accord. Several tendrils had come loose from a sporty ponytail to frame her face, bringing her almond shaped green eyes to Harry's attention. With a small pang Harry realized that this was what it would have been like to stand fact to face with his mother. There was no doubt about it; this had to be Hermione. Even as the realization hit him her eyes, Harry's eyes, Lilly's eyes, met his.

"Celdere," Hermione said coolly, as Harry scrambled forward to stand next to his mother.

"Aurelia," Celdere greeted, with more warmth than Hermione's frigid greeting had held. "I don't believe that we've had the pleasure of meeting."

"We haven't," Hermione said flatly. "Although perhaps it would have been for the better if we hadn't have met since you are harboring a Death Eater. Considering that she is wanted in several countries for several crimes I would have thought that you would exercise more care in choosing your allies. You should have known that the Amazons wouldn't agree with this," Hermione scolded. Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Celdere.

"We may not be the pure virgins of the Amazon tribes, Aurelia," Celdere started tightly, not sounding too much unlike Professor McGonagall. "But nevertheless we are never ashamed of our own. Every vampire is always welcome here and I will not answer to anyone for that, especially not from a green little witch like you." Harry had half hoped that Celdere had been joking when she had said she wouldn't hear anything more about Bellatrix. "Besides," the vampire continued ruthlessly as Hermione's face hardened into emotionless features, "You can hardly pretend that you were here to ally with us in the first place. In case you hadn't heard, I'd like you to meet my new heir: Harry Potter. We will be following him in this upcoming war while your population continues to shrink in size," she snapped. Harry put a claming hand on his mother's shoulder, wishing that he could have done a bit more.

"Aurelia," he started, giving Celdere a meaningful glance as he tried to stop the damage from spreading. He already had it bad enough with Hermione for not telling her about becoming a vampire and now his mother was about to succeed in driving her away. "What I believe my mother meant to say was that Bellatrix Lestrange, Bellatrix Black," he amended at the woman's glare, "Is one of our own and has come to us asking for help and forgiveness. Now I know that we cannot grant her true forgiveness but we have offered her the chance to redeem herself. She has agreed to give us useful information about Voldemort's operations and in exchange we have offered to shield her from the effects of her betrayal. It doesn't matter if you're a Death Eater, a Ministry worker, or an ally, she answers to us." Hermione was giving him questioning looks but he could still feel Celdere's tension and anger. As much as he hated defending the former Death Eater, it seemed to be the only way out of this mess. "We have no way of knowing what your intentions were behind this visit, but I can assure you that if you were looking for an alliance that this is part of the deal," he said firmly.

Hermione gave him a slightly bewildered look. "Harry, this woman killed Sirius," she said, sounding as confused as she looked. Harry realized that she must have taken the voice charm off at some point. So did Bellatrix and Celdere.

"Why if it isn't the little Granger bitch all grown up," Bella said, her voice dripping with malice. Harry turned on her.

"I just defended you to her," he snarled. "Don't make me regret it." Bellatrix wisely didn't say anything. Celdere snatched her shoulder out from Harry's grasp and took a step towards the Gryffindor.

"Miss Granger?" she questioned. Hermione nodded, but didn't remove the disguise charms, letting her eyes follow the vampire queen's movement. Celdere turned to Harry. "And you knew?" she whispered softly. Harry nodded. Morgan was still next to Hermione but she was hoping desperately not to be noticed, something which Harry's keen eyes picked up. Celdere's brown eyes darted to her with lightning speed. "And you knew as well," she added, not questioning it this time. Morgan's guilty expression more than gave it away. "You smell like pine," she told Hermione defeatedly, gesturing to Morgan for some chairs as she took a seat in the armchair. Harry seated himself back on the floor, Hermione coming to sit next to him, her hair now brown and curly. Bellatrix seated herself haughtily in a chair while Morgan hovered uncertainly between the door and Harry. Celdere gestured her to sit.

"So I've been told," Hermione said with a small smile at Harry, reaching out to take his hand. Only the whiteness of her knuckles betrayed her nerves. "Miss duBourg," she said tentatively. "I believe that we got off on the wrong foot. People might call me the brightest witch of the age but I have an alarming tendency to overreact, especially when I don't know all of the facts," she admitted with an embarrassed smile.

Celdere looked at her carefully. "What Harry said before stands, Miss Granger. I will not hear any more on this issue from anyone. Bellatrix is one of us and she has come to us for help. If I cannot offer help to a childe who needs it then I am not fit to rule, no matter what that childe has done." Hermione nodded solemnly.

"I understand. I spoke too quickly and too harshly and I ask that you forgive me. I cannot say that I am totally comfortable with Bellatrix but if you have managed to convince Harry so strongly then you have convinced me," she added, giving Harry's hand a small squeeze.

"Then you may call me Celdere," Celdere said with a small smile. "I hope I am not too presumptuous if I guess that you were not offering an Amazon alliance."

Hermione laughed. "No, by all means, guess away. My becoming Queen is actually the solution to that problem, since the Amazons could see that I would follow Harry but he wouldn't order me around." Celdere nodded in understanding. "I was merely coming by to visit with Harry but the disguise merely gave me the excuse to know where you lived. I wasn't expecting to walk in on what was so obviously a private matter."

Celdere waved the matter away. "Of course. Morgan's timing has something to be desired I see." Morgan blushed.

Bellatrix soon excused herself after the conversation fell into small talk. After she left, Hermione got back to business.

"The real reason behind me coming was to deliver presents," she said, snapping her fingers. Three presents came sailing at her from out of thin air and she caught them effortlessly. "I know that we only just met but Harry told me that you liked knives so I found one of the more ceremonial looking knives from my collection," she said as Celdere unwrapped her gift to find an elegant dagger wrapped with black rawhide and with several rubies set into the pommel. "He also told me that you liked red," she added with a blush. Celdere thanked her graciously as Hermione handed Morgan her gift, a delicate silver necklace.

"Don't I get a gift?" Harry asked with an adorable pout.

"I'm not sure that I've been greeted properly enough for me to give you a gift," Hermione said thoughtfully, giggling as Harry pulled her closer to him so that they could share a kiss.

"How was that?" he asked breathlessly when the finally pulled apart.

"It could use some work," Hermione replied with a mischievous grin, her voice coming out just as breathy as his. "But I suppose it will have to do."

Harry took the package that she handed him and opened it carefully, pulling out a silver chain with a stag pendant dangling from it. "Prongs," he breathed.

"It's a portkey," Hermione said with a smile. "You are the first man in Amazon history to be given a portkey to our camp that you can use any time you'd like. It's other destination is your dormitory," she added as he wrapped her up in a huge hug, adding in a kiss for good measure.

"That is a very valuable gift, Harry," Celdere said appreciatively. "It seems the Amazons trust you." The soft smile from Hermione assured the elder woman that her appreciation of the true value of the gift had not gone unnoticed, nor without gratitude.

Hermione couldn't stay for very long after the exchange of gifts, explaining with a small smile that her parents were going to be looking for her soon. She had, after all, just apparated in midair, quite literally going from the ski run to the Forbidden Forest mid-jump so that she could change, get a lock on the location of the Vampire Fortress, all without having told her parents that she was leaving. Luckily they had wanted to go down a rather long double black diamond run so they probably wouldn't have been looking for too long.

"I still should probably get going though," she said with a rueful smile, summoning her cloak to her waiting hands without a thought.

"Of course," Harry said with an understanding smile. "Next time you decide to keep in touch, keep in mind that a letter would have been just fine," he added with a serious look. She gave him an affronted look, cracking his serious façade.

"Perhaps it would have been enough for you, Mr. Potter," she said haughtily before reaching up to pull him into a large hug. "But I know for a fact that a mere letter would not have been enough for me," she added huskily, her mouth right next to his ear.

"I stand corrected then," he said laughingly, taking the cloak from her hand and draping it over her shoulders. With a grin she gave him a sweet parting kiss before walking a ways down the corridor and vanishing on the spot.

"And they say chivalry is dead," Hermione said wonderingly to no one in particular as she made her way through the bustling Amazon camp to her tent. Once suitably dressed back into her snowboarding clothes she went in search of Ainia, finding the other woman overseeing a few of the tasks with her two advisors predictably dogging her heels.

"Back so soon?" Ainia asked, making her way over to Hermione and leaving the other two in charge.

"My parents will be looking for me soon," the Gryffindor replied. "Our vacations aren't really supposed to be magical, and I think popping across the continent to visit your boyfriend counts as magical, especially when you've made yourself look like his mother," she added with a face. She hadn't missed the look of longing that had crossed Harry's face as he realized that she looked like Lilly. She had chosen it as a surefire way for him to recognize her but it obviously had brought up at least a little bit of buried pain. It was one of the first things on her list to have Harry and Morgan help her create a new look, on that didn't bring up ghosts that they weren't ready to deal with quite then.

"Of course," the other woman said with a nod. "Keep in touch then," she ordered sternly, wrapping the Gryffindor into a hug.

"Like I would dare not to," Hermione responded with a laugh, giving the older woman a tight squeeze before stepping back and apparating back to the Swiss ski lodge. Almost instantly she could hear the sounds of fighting going on around the corner of the lodge, and the unmistakable sounds of curses flying. Abandoning her snowboard with a large thump she took off at a sprint, drawing her wand and making her tattoos visible so as not to waste the magical energy. Besides, with all of the snow gear that she was wearing, none of it would be seen anyway.

She slid around the corner, shouting spells at the Death Eaters who were scattered around the area, easily overtaking the muggles who were trying to resist as best they could. Most of them were merely running around and screaming, becoming easy targets for the Death Eaters.

Over the din she managed to pick out the aristocratic drawl of Lucius Malfoy, shouting instructions to what seemed to be his team. It didn't surprise Hermione to hear that a large majority of them were fresh out of Azkaban.

"Hey, Malfoy!" she yelled, aiming her wand and shooting off a bludgeoning hex the second he turned his back. With a snarl he got back up, blonde hair showing from under his mask. All around him, motion ceased.

"Well, look what we have here," he said, drawling confidently despite the fact that she had just nearly knocked his mask off. "It's the little Granger bitch come out to play. We were wondering when you or your boyfriend would show up."

"He's not my boyfriend," she replied calmly, the practiced lie falling from her lips with ease. The other Death Eaters had all left their muggle toys, who had fled promptly, and come to circle around her. Hermione briefly considered calling Harry or the Amazons for help, but hesitated, knowing that if she did then the advantage would be lost later on in the battle.

"That's not what Draco tells me," Malfoy said with an elegant shrug.

"Can we just kill her and get on with it?" the cloaked and masked man asked with a snarl, fingers clenched tight on the handle of his wand. Lucius' hand came up to stop the outburst.

"No," he said, the slow grin on his face nearly audible. "This one the Dark Lord will want to see alive and well. Try not to damage her too much," he added stepping back to allow the other Death Eaters to take over the fighting, which they did with a single-minded intensity.

Hermione was instantly forced to start dodging spell left and right, doing some odd flips to avoid the barrage at a few points. She had done several drills like this before, so the practice wasn't new to her, but this time if she was hit she wouldn't be revived so that the game could start over. It was quite possible that if she was hit she would be maimed, and she would wake up in a dungeon worse than Azkaban. With a shudder of fear, she forced her mind into a painful focus.

There were so many spells being sent at her that it was nearly impossible for her to cast a spell with and she was reluctant to use wandless magic. It was possible, however, to make the spells rebound back at their casters wandlessly without it becoming too obvious, so long as the spells came in lighter for a moment. She carefully waited until she had a chance to divide her attention before casting the spells, watching with glee as the spells rebounded instantly. She managed to down at least six of them before anyone noticed, and she took out another three before they called a ceasefire.

Still, she didn't stop moving, going on the offensive and managing to injure, perhaps fatally, all the men that were lying on the ground cursed. She heard Malfoy call a retreat and an insult in the same breath before popping out, leaving the other Death Eaters to follow hastily, leaving the dead and wounded behind. Suddenly exhausted, she checked the small watch on her wrist as she moved forward cautiously to start tying up the remaining nine men. The entire exchange had taken maybe ten minutes, but she was willing to bet that her guess was an ambitious one. She was tying the last knot when the loud cracking of apparition made her spin around, wand drawn.

"Lower your wand," a pompous looking Auror called out to her, sounding like he expected that she would do so. If anything, Hermione tightened her grip.

"I am an official member of the Ministry of Magic. If you do not lower your wand, we will be forced to take action," he called again. The men behind him shifted uneasily. Hermione scoffed.

"I just took out nine Death Eaters and you think a bunch of Ministry idiots are going to suddenly make me care about who I'm pointing a wand at?" Hermione called, keeping her wand drawn merely for the pleasure of seeing the man's face turn purple. Reasoning that the wand wasn't really that important to her when it came to defending herself anyway, she put it away as instructed, more out of fear that the man's head might explode than out of fear that she'd be taken out forcibly. "Happy?" she asked. He didn't answer, but gestured to his men to see to the Death Eaters. She stepped away from them, hands out in case they decided to threaten her for something else.

"What happened here ma'am?" one of the other men asked her politely, the tip of a Quick-Quotes Quill already set to a pad of paper.

"Exactly what it looks like," she answered nonchalantly. "A few Death Eaters showed up to have some fun, so I started to have some fun with them, and a few didn't like that so they left. The others didn't really have much of a choice about staying or going," she added with a nod in the roped group's direction.

"They didn't have a motive to be here or anything?" the Auror pressed as Hermione turned to walk away.

"I know Harry Potter, Officer," she said with a smile. "That's usually all the invitation they need. If you'll excuse me," she said, turning. She paused. "I would duck if I were you," she said, before starting to walk away. "_Accio!_" she said loudly, catching the snowboard as it went whizzing towards her. She could only assume from the fact that she heard no sound of snowboard on skull that the Auror had taken her advice.

'_Good boy.'_


	7. An Offer You Can't Refuse

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 7: An Offer You Can't Refuse

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Trade your secrets and become who you are.

~Frank Warren

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Later that same day Hermione was very grateful that when it came to Wizardry, her parents could be very oblivious. The fact that she had apparated to Hogwarts, to visit Harry, and back to Hogwarts before arriving in the mountains where she was supposed to be had totally escaped their notice, as had the 10 minute or so fight with the Death Eaters, and her very brief conversation with the Ministry officials that had come to clean up after her. By the time they returned from their ski run she was back on her board patiently waiting for them before going back up, and she couldn't even be sure that they even noticed the small commotion going on still near the ski lodge.

She was quite surprised to find that news traveled quickly even in the more secluded areas of the Wizarding communities, namely the Amazon and the Vampire circles, as was evidenced by the fact that throughout two entire ski runs people were constantly apparating in and out, mostly with no subtlry or skill. The fact that no one seemed to notice their odd clothing (the Amazons were dressed for the cold in Amazonian fashions, not Muggle ones, and the vampires were still wearing cloaks and carrying knives) or even the fact that they were there at all cemented the idea in her head that her parents were particularly oblivious to the Wizarding World as it went on around them. Of course, they were quick enough to blame losing their car keys to imps, or whatever else they came up with, but when people actually appeared out of thin air on the other side of a narrow ski run from them, they didn't even notice. Of course, they did notice the man who managed to actually knock her on her ass.

"I'm so sorry," he said, sounding sincerely apologetic, picking himself up off the ground and then offering her hand to help her up.

"No damage done," she said, accepting his hand with a grateful smile. That fall had actually hurt quite a bit, but she wasn't going to let anyone know that.

"Would that be less or more than the Death Eaters managed?" he asked with a roguish grin.

Hermione looked up, startled. Had he just said… "I'm sorry?" she asked politely.

"The Prince sent me, m'lady," he explained with a disarming smile, spreading his hands out wide innocently. "He said to tell you he was sorry that he couldn't send help, that he's glad that you're alright, and that he's sorry for everything," he added.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times wordlessly for a few moments before finally regaining her powers of speech. "Well you can tell him that I'm fine, I understand why he couldn't send help, nor was I expecting that he would, and that he needs to stop apologizing for things that aren't his fault. You can also tell him that the next time he wants to check up on me, he should come himself and not send some random stranger that knocks me halfway down a mountain," she fumed.

"Of course, my apologies again m'lady," he said quickly, giving her a brilliant smile and then boarding down the mountain, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

"Well, he was cute," her mother said as she skied past her daughter, obviously mistaking the chit chat for flirting.

Hermione just growled.

The rest of the trip passed easily, with no more magical happenings around her parents, and soon she was back on the train to Hogwarts, sitting in an empty compartment with an open book, but not reading a word of it. The door slid open, and her hand went to the handle of the dagger that was protruding slightly from the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

"Miss me?"

She chose not to answer that ridiculous question and instead threw the dagger on the seat next to her along with the book and wrapped him into a tight hug. He chuckled.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he said, smiling against her hair as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"You'd better," she ordered him fiercely, tilting her head back to catch his lips with hers. She only just managed to keep the presence of mind to shut the door behind them with a careless wave of her hand to keep prying eyes from seeing them. Of course, that idea mostly went out the window when the door flew open, making them jump apart guiltily, to admit a smiling Morgan.

"Get a room you two," she said with a grin at them before wrapping Hermione into a hug.

"We had one," Harry grumbled. "But then this pushy, loud, and bossy vampire went and intruded, and now we have to find another."

"Oh, that is the saddest thing that I've ever heard in my life, or lack thereof," Morgan said with a smirk, throwing herself into one of the seats with careless abandon. With a shrug, Harry joined her.

"Did you see Ron on the way in?" Hermione asked, taking the hint and sitting down across from them.

"Yeah, I think I saw him, or some other Weasley on my way in. I'm sure he'll find us once he's got his bags stowed."

"Yes, but will he manage to find us before MalFerret finds us for his traditional biannual 'Let's make fun of Potter and Co.' event. You know, the one where he shows up and bullies us, and then he ends up slinking out at the end," Hermione finished with a smirk.

The door slid open.

"I'm sure that it will be going slightly differently this time around Granger," Draco drawled as he entered the compartment backed by Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione sneered. "Draco, _darling_, your daddy couldn't beat my ass, what makes you think you can do any better?"

"That was then and this is now, Granger, simple as that. There you have people to clean up for you, and here all you have is a waiting detention. I don't think you want to go crossing the teachers now, do you?" he challenged.

Just then there was a slight commotion and Crabbe and Goyle were forcibly parted to reveal an unfamiliar man.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked, yawning widely to reveal his too-sharp canines, which he then displayed in a charming smile that only looked like he was baring his fangs more. Draco visibly shrunk back against Crabbe who, along with Goyle, seemed to actually have enough sense to be worried.

"No problem here," Draco said quickly before turning tail and fleeing the compartment, leaving his faithful bodyguards to fend for themselves.

"Thanks, Ramon," Harry said with a grin. The vampire flashed a toothy grin once more and then stepped back into the corridor and slid the door shut.

"You would think that he would learn that toying with us never works well for him," Hermione commented idly, stashing her dagger back up her sleeve and returning to her book.

The rest of the trip was passed without much interruption aside from the arrival of Ron and Ginny, as well as several other friends and D.A. members sticking their heads in to say hello. They all said their usually greeting to Hagrid as the disembarked from the train, properly garbed in robes and Gryffindor scarves to ward themselves from the cold that neither Morgan nor Harry felt, and Hermione was accustomed to. However, the three of them gave a good show of freezing along with the others until the made it into the relative warmth of the castle itself and began the long climb up to the seventh floor and Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione, Ginny, and Morgan all headed up to their dorms under the excuse of changing into more comfortable clothing, leaving the men to wait. After waving Ginny into her own dorm and promising to follow quickly, Hermione and Morgan headed up the short flight of stairs to the 7th year dorms, where they started to go through their packed trunks.

"Hey Morgan," Hermione said, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen over them as they changed. "I have a favor to ask of you," she told the other witch after Morgan's vaguely interested 'mmhmm?'. That caught Morgan's attention.

"What's up, Hermione?" she asked curiously, folded shirt forgotten in her hands as she stared at the bushy-haired Amazon beside her. Hermione, unperturbed by the weight of the vampire's stare, continued to cast around in her trunk for a pair of jeans.

"I want you to teach me vampire sign language," Hermione said simply, stripping out of her denim skirt and black leggings and pulling the jeans on over her slender legs.

"What?" Morgan exclaimed. "No, I heard you," she said quickly as Hermione opened her mouth, presumably to repeat herself. "What I mean to exclaim was 'why?'," she explained, taking a seat on the bed, tossing the shirt in her hand back in the trunk after staring at it like it had grown a head.

Hermione fastened her jeans and joined the vampire on the bed. "So much of our relationship is a sham," Hermione said softly, meaning her and Harry, which Morgan got right away. She also understood where Hermione was coming from. "And its not just because of him and who he is, its me and who I've become too," she explained, falling back into Hermione's well-established method for reasoning through a decision. "We can't talk about so many things in public, we can't be so much of ourselves in public," she began, angrily cutting herself off. "For goodness' sake, I'm covering up a major magical work of body art," she exclaimed angrily, gesturing at her arm which was now covered in the familiar thick lines of her tribal tattoos. Morgan sniffed at the air appreciatively as the faint hint of pine that had been tickling at her sense of smell for hours now became full blown wooded smell. Hermione took a deep breath, feeling the scent relax her a bit, and continued.

"I've seen how the sign language uncomplicates his relationship with you. You can talk about anything, whenever you want to and not have to worry about who overhears. It's bad enough that Harry and I are at a disadvantage since he's a vampire and I'm an Amazon and we have little in common that way. We can't understand each other that way, but at least we could discuss everything without worrying about who is listening. Harry would never agree to teach me without your support of the idea," she added, eyes pleading now.

Slowly, Morgan nodded, understanding where Hermione was coming from and not being able to see what was wrong with her logic. Besides, there could be nothing wrong with teaching the girl. It could actually serve them well in the future.

"Thank you," Hermione said, giving the other girl a spontaneous hug.

"First lesson," Morgan said when she could breath again. "Vamp signing is derived from American sign language. Second lesson: if you don't know the motion for something you can always spell the word out. It doesn't work for non-english, but that shouldn't be a problem for you. The first thing I'll teach you," she started. "Later on," she amended. "Will be the alphabet."

"You're awesome, Morgan," Hermione said appreciatively as she stood and began to search her trunk for the shirt she wanted to wear. The other girl hadn't hidden her tattoos again, and Morgan was treated to a mostly full view when the other witch took off her shirt. They were fascinating, and Morgan was disappointed when Hermione found a shirt and started to put it on.

"Wait," she said, grabbing the witch by the wrist and pulling her arm down to look at the designs inked into the skin. "May I?" she asked, suddenly aware of how awkward the request, and the entire situation, was. "They're beautiful," she said fingers ghosting over the designs on the inside of Hermione's arm before remembering herself with a blush. "Harry has some, you know," she offered, releasing Hermione's wrist and turning away, hoping to dispel the awkwardness. She hadn't meant for things to get so oddly sexual, since she didn't have feelings for Hermione, or any other woman for that matter, and hoped that Hermione hadn't minded.

"He has tattoos?" she asked, startled. "I didn't know that," she commented softly, slightly hurt. Harry had, after all, been around her in her ink frequently enough to feel that he could show her whatever tattoo he was hiding under whatever article of clothing he was hiding it under. "What of?" she asked Morgan, pulling on her shirt to cover the hurt expression she knew was on her face.

"He keeps them hidden from everyone, and has since he got them," Morgan told her, sitting on her bed to pull shoes on. "They're tribals, like yours, but for Celdere's household. They aren't really meant to be decorative, like yours are, but they're pretty anyway, even if they are a symbol of who owns you," Morgan explained, watching Hermione carefully. "I have them too, although not to the extent that he does. I'd assume that because he's Prince they went all out on his, but most of us just get a small symbol or design somewhere convenient. I keep mine hidden, but I could pass it of as normal tattooing without issue," she told Hermione, pulling aside her hair and showing the witch the back of her neck, where a tattooed design was appearing on the skin. Morgan was right, the placement was not unusual, and the design was pretty enough to be accepted easily.

"He's hidden them ever since he got them?" Hermione asked, turning to Morgan, who nodded the affirmative.

"Ours aren't meant to be out there for everyone to see, Hermione. He's had them covered magically since he figured out how to do it. They're almost as extensive as yours," she added. Hermione nodded her understanding, but her hands were rubbing away at a spot on the back of her hand covered with a bold black line. Even as Morgan watched Hermione's tattoos faded, starting with the spot she had been rubbing at, almost as if the witch was trying to rub the ink out from under her skin.

She was lucky to have done so, because before Morgan could say anything to comfort the obviously emotionally something-ed witch, Ginny let herself into the 7th years dorm with a quick rap on the room as it swung open. Morgan was forced to say nothing as the two older girls allowed Ginny to herd them back downstairs to their waiting men.

Harry caught Hermione's mood instantly and pulled her into his lap, pressing a forehead to her temple as she snuggled close to him.

'What'd you do to her?' Harry asked Morgan through sign language.

'I don't think I did anything,' Morgan responded, making it clear through her signing that she was just as baffled as he was. All she knew was that it had to do with tattoos.

Equally perplexed, Harry just continued to hold her in his lap until it was time for everyone to head down to the Great Hall for the feast.

After a long chat in the common room by the constantly blazing fire, soothing after the noisy welcome back dinner, Harry and Hermione settled themselves on the couch and just snuggled quietly until everyone but Morgan and Ginny had left. With some persuading, and fast finger-talking, Harry managed to get Morgan to go off to bed and take the youngest Weasley with her, which left Harry and Hermione alone in the common room.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Harry asked quietly, stroking Hermione's hair softly and pulling her tighter against him. Hermione pushed out of his embrace to look him in the eye.

"We're really open with each other about everything, right, Harry?" she asked him, confusing him nearly instantly. Of course they were, she was the only non-vampire person at Hogwarts who knew that he was a vampire, aside from Dumbledore, and with the spell that Morgan put on him, he should be barely able to remember it, let alone tell anyone else about it.

"Of course we are, Hermione. I trust you more than anyone else with all of my secrets," Harry said gently, looking at her curiously. "What makes you ask?"

Hermione sighed and looked away, focusing on her hands instead. "Oh, it's nothing really," she mumbled, becoming oddly focused and interested in her fingernails. Harry grabbed her by the chin gently and made her look back at him.

"Its not nothing if its making you act like this, Hermione," he told her firmly, but quietly. She blushed brightly, though she still tried to play it off.

"Acting like what?" she said innocently.

"Acting like you're afraid to lose me," Harry said. "I've never seen you act as physically affectionate towards me in public before, nor act so quiet when we're just around friends. Tell me what's bothering you," he requested.

"Fine," she said shortly, but her tone was more defeated than angry. "It's just that I feel like we know each other so well, but at the same time I feel like I don't really know you at all," she said evasively.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, curious once more now that she was being semi-straight about telling him what was wrong.

"Well, I know you're a vampire and you know I'm an Amazon, and I know that I can look like myself and be myself around you," she explained, tracing over the materializing design of her tribal tattoos on the back of her hand. The sudden scent of pine in the air told him that she was giving up on keeping them hidden, and though he wished that she would be a bit more cautious when talking about his vampirism when anyone could hear them, and a bit more cautious when talking about herself as well. The tattoos weren't too noticeable, especially when she was covered all but for the back of her hands, but still, he couldn't help but look around nervously to see if anyone was eavesdropping. "And I guess I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you could trust me with any secret that you have without having to worry about me judging you harshly," she was saying.

Harry was now very confused. "I know that already, Hermione," he told her, watching her as she slid from his lap with a slightly distressed look on her face. "What made you bring it up?" he wanted to know. He could tell that she was feeling insecure about something, but that she wasn't sharing the specifics with him, and he said as much when she hesitated before answering him.

"Morgan mentioned that you have tattoos as well," she said so quietly that he would not have heard it if not for his vampire hearing. "And I will admit that I was hurt by the revelation that you couldn't trust me enough to tell me or show me," she said, her voice stronger now. "I mean, it's not like I've shown a great dislike and disapproval for body art," she said, pulling off her sweatshirt to reveal the twisting and jagged lines that marked the skin of her arms. "Did you think you couldn't tell me, Harry?" she asked, her voice rising in volume and pitch as her hurt and frustration with him made itself known.

Harry gaped at her wordlessly before standing and walking towards her, arms outstretched, but she took a step back an evaded his embrace. Eventually, Harry just dropped his arms back to his sides and looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"It wasn't how it sounds, Hermione, I swear it," he began. Hermione scoffed, but didn't say anything, giving him the chance to continue. "With Amazons, you see your tattoos all the time, you're proud of yours. I know that you aren't necessarily proud of yours, but if anything, I'm even less proud. These tattoos cover my entire back, and they are little more than a mark of who I belong to," he said bitterly. "I dislike being a pawn, and I've gained independence from Dumbledore to some extent, but when push comes to shove, Celdere owns me because she is my sire. I'm sorry that I've so obviously hurt you with my reluctance to show you something that is as much a part of me as this tattoo is, regardless of my reasoning," he said, his hands going to the neck of his shirt. Her hands shot out and held them down, preventing him from taking off his shirt.

"It's not that I want you to show me, Harry," she said quietly, looking up at him and realizing suddenly how close together they were. "I want you to want to show me. If you are really as ashamed as you said, then you don't have to show me. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured or forced into showing me. I can wait for as long as you need to be ready," she told him, locking gazes with him.

"Thank you," he said simply, pulling his hands from her gentle but firm grasp and pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the couch. "Just to be safe," he explained as he waved his hand and cast a privacy spell. "I'm willing to trust you with this, but I don't really want anyone else to see. It will raise too many questions that I don't want raised," he added. Hermione nodded understandingly. With a deep breath, Harry turned around to present his back to her, and willed his tattoos into visibility.

His sharp ears caught Hermione's small intake of breath as the lines started to appear in a pattern that took over his entire back and a good portion of his arms. There was a brief moment of silence where neither of them moved after they had fully appeared, and just as Harry was beginning to regret his choice, he felt Hermione's hands on his back, tracing over the lines and designs that he knew was there. He stiffened at first, but quickly enough relaxed into the touch as she followed the designs all the way over his arms until she was standing in front of him again.

"I know you aren't proud of why you have them, Harry," she said. "But they are beautiful, and I'm glad that you shared them with me. Thank you," she added, standing slightly on tip-toe to press her lips against his. His arms went around her waist before she could fully pull away from him as he deepened the kiss. When they finally broke apart, she was smiling up at him.

"We should both probably go to bed, we have a busy day tomorrow," she said, giving him a small peck on the lips and walking away from him with a seductive smile. Harry stared after her for a moment before grabbing his shirt, making sure his tattoos were hidden, and heading up the stairs to the Boy's Dormitories.

"I'm glad you two got whatever was going on sorted," Morgan said just loud enough for Harry and Hermione to hear as they headed to breakfast the next morning in a large group of seventh years, with Ginny being the only exception. Before either could say anything to her, however, the vampire had pushed past the two of them to chat with the youngest Weasley about something, conveniently leaving the couple at the back of the group, and unnoticed by the others.

"She's too nosy for her own good," Harry complained to Hermione, though she could tell that he didn't mean it. "I get the feeling that we'll never be able to row properly, because she'll always know what's going on, even if we don't," he added.

"Perhaps," Hermione admitted with a laugh. "Still, you have to admit that if she does end up doing that I'm not sure that's a bad thing. Especially since I don't plan on rowing with you over anything," she said mischievously.

The couple fell into a comfortable silence as they continued into the Great Hall with the others, slipping into seats next to each other at the end of the table.

The instant Ron got food in his mouth he started up a string of complaints about their long day of classes, starting with Transfiguration and ending with Potions with the Slytherins. The others agreed, for the most part, and Harry could have sworn that he saw Hermione have to hide a grin at the sight of Ron simply being so Ron-like. He decided not to mention it, and breakfast passed without incident, and soon enough they were in Transfiguration trying to turn goblets into raccoons, something that had Hermione smiling proudly in ten minutes, Harry following her example in twenty, and had Ron yelling the incantation at his goblet until he was nearly purple in the face for the entire class period.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, could I see you for a minute?" McGonagall requested as everyone was packing up their things. With a shrug, Harry motioned for Morgan and Ron to go ahead without them to their next class and then headed up together to the front of the room, where McGonagall was surveying them over her square-rimmed spectacles. The Transfiguration professor waited until the door was fully closed before saying anything.

"Before I say anything more I just want to let you know that what I am about to say is not regularly offered, but I feel that the two of you are up to the task, if you choose to accept." Harry and Hermione exchanged a confused glance, and then turned back to McGonagall. "The Headmaster and I have been talking and he and I have decided to offer the two of you the chance to become animagi," she clarified with one of her rare smiles. "You've both shown exemplary work in my class this year especially, and the two of you have shown that you can handle the added responsibility and work necessary to undergo such an undertaking."

Harry and Hermione exchanged another glance, and without speaking to each other, Hermione took the lead.

"We'd be honored, Professor," she said simply for the both of them. "When do we start?" she asked with a grin. Harry found that he was smiling as well, and McGonagall was giving them another of her rare smiles, though this one remained on her face for longer than the few seconds that was usual.

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	8. Spots and Secrets

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 8: Spots and Secrets

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The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

Marcel Proust

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Though it had taken some rearranging of their schedules, especially with the Amazons, Harry and Hermione managed to make it to McGonagall's private quarters every weeknight for the better part of two months, and before Easter was up McGonagall, who had insisted that the two of them call her Minerva, had decided that the two of them were ready to try their first transformation. So it was with butterflies in her stomach, Hermione found herself speaking the password to Minerva's quarters and entering with a small rap on the portrait.

"Minerva?" she called when she entered the sitting room to find that the Professor was not there.

"In here, dear," came Minerva's voice from the small kitchenette that apparently was a standard feature in all the Professor's apartments. Curious, Hermione set her bag down on a chair and followed the sound of the woman's voice until she found the Transfiguration Professor, who was busy ladling a still steaming and bubbling potion from a cauldron on the small stove into a goblet. Hermione was glad to see that it looked much better than the Polyjuice Potion that she had brewed and drunk in second year, but she was still not looking forward to drinking it. She assumed that her face said as much, because Minerva pressed the goblet into her hand with a bit more force than necessary and then patted the back of her hand as if in apology.

"Now, this potion will transform you into your animal, but you will be a baby. You will not be able to turn back into yourself until you have matured into the adult version of whatever you'll turn into. That process, as I'm sure you already know," she said with a smile, "can take different time for different people, so the Headmaster is prepared to grant you a day free of classes if you need it, and you are more than welcome to stay the night here if you should need that as well. The second you drink that you will transform, so now is the time to ask any questions you have," the older woman added kindly.

Hermione merely nodded, having done her research and already knowing most of what Minerva had just told her and instead wandered back into the sitting room and discarding her robes and wand on top of her bag.

"Bottoms up, then," she said with a tight smile, fighting nerves as she turned to face the professor and then downed the entire goblet.

For a moment nothing happened, and Hermione was just about to comment on that fact when a sharp pain ripped through her entire body, forcing a gasp of pain and shock from her lips. She was vaguely aware of having let go of the goblet, which was now laying on the plush carpet at her feet as another pain shot through her, forcing her shoulders to hunch and her hands to touch the carpet as she tried to hold herself together and keep from collapsing. She could feel her spine start to shorten and her legs contort into a new shape as her nose lengthened into a short snout and tawny and black fur erupted from her skin. The entire transformation couldn't have taken more than a minute at the most, but it felt like an eternity later when she could take stock of herself without having her thoughts scattered by the pain.

The first thing she noticed was that her eyes had been shut tightly, and she opened them to find Minerva's familiar green orbs right in front of her, which was enough to shock her from noticing anything else about herself for a good long while she stared unblinkingly at the other woman. Then, realizing she was foolish, her twitched her tail and stood up on four paws without thinking about it, only to have the action register a second later and turn her gaze to the new appendage, which was twitching faintly under her scrutiny. She shot another interested gaze at her mostly black front paw and then looked up at Minerva with an inquisitive look. The other witch was lying flat on her stomach still, but was more or less eye-to-eye with Hermione.

"Would you like me to tell you what you are?" she asked softly, the new-found nuances in her voice causing Hermione's ears to swivel back and forth slightly. Hermione tried to answer, but instead was only able to vocalize a weak-sounding mewling before she gave up and nodded. "I'm going to sit up," the witch told her pupil as she slowly moved into a sitting position, leaning up against the leg of a chair while Hermione staggered closer to her, not used to the mechanics of her four legs.

"You, Hermione, are a leopard," Minerva told her, the smile on her face showing her pride and her amusement at Hermione's struggles. "And a very beautiful one at that. I haven't seen a pattern quite like yours on any other leopard, but it suits you wonderfully. In fact, it almost looks like a drawing of sorts," she added pensively, reaching out to trace two thick lines of spots that were on either side of Hermione's spine. "There's two lines here, and there's a few more branching out from that," Minerva explained. Hermione's tail twitched violently as she realized that her tattoo's had found their way to manifest themselves into this form. "Do you want to see for yourself?" she asked as she conjured a mirror, but didn't hold it out so that Hermione could see herself until Hermione nodded again.

Critically, Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror. She was a leopard cub, her too-big paws speaking of the size that she would attain as the potion worked it's magic through her system. Her tattoos, as she had thought, were clearly visible, but luckily masked slightly by the imprecision of the spots that covered her entire body, marring her dark tawny colored fur. Honey brown eyes with slitted pupils stared back at her in the reflection, and she blinked once before concentrating her attention to her tail, which was slowly moving from side to side. Her surveyance was interrupted by Minerva standing and walking towards the kitchen; after a moment of thought Hermione abandoned her reflection and followed her into the kitchen, less clumsily than before, where Minerva was busy filling a bowl with water.

"In case you get thirsty," she explained as she set the bowl on the ground near Hermione. "I'm going to get some papers to grade and bring them into the sitting room," she informed the little leopard cub at her feet. "Feel more than free to explore wherever you'd like and don't worry about breaking anything, not that you will I'm sure," she added with a kind smile. Hermione nodded once more and turned back into the sitting room while Minerva headed into her bedroom briefly and returned carrying an armful of papers and a pot of red ink. By that point, Hermione was already eyeing the bookshelves that lined one wall with interest, and with a chuckle Minerva put the cat mostly out of mind as she started to grade first year essays.

Hermione amused herself with looking at the spines of the books closest to her before she was forced to give up her interested perusal of Minerva's shelves due to their distance away from her and settled to jumping and climbing all over Minerva's sitting room furniture until she was able to jump from the back of the sofa onto a slightly precarious stack of books, but in better view of the books on the top of the shelf. She didn't realize how late it had gotten until a small sound caught her ears and she turned in the direction of the bedroom in time to see Professor Dumbledore emerge, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, which he placed quietly on a table before pulling a surprised McGonagall to her feet in a tight embrace.

"Albus," Minerva managed to say before he silenced her with a kiss. It was obvious to Hermione that she was used to such gestures from him by the way she instantly relaxed into his embrace and the kiss turned passionate, though she was unable to see very much of it since she took a surprised step forward and promptly toppled off of the books, which all followed her to the ground.

Minerva must have remembered that Hermione was there fairly quickly because Hermione felt her body halt in midair, though the books continued to rain down on her as Minerva caught the leopard cub in a quick Levitation Charm. Dumbledore, to his credit, didn't look so surprised to look over at the commotion to find a leopard cub hovering in midair with a very guilty expression on her face as Minerva lowered her to the ground gently.

"Miss Granger?" he asked softly after peering at her for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Albus, I tried to warn you," Minerva said weakly, putting her wand away but making no effort to remove herself from his embrace. Hermione meekly sat on her haunches and curled her tail around herself contritely.

"Think nothing of it, love," he said, kissing her softly on the temple as he let go. "I suppose the cat's out of the bag now, so to speak," he added, with a chuckle at his own joke. "Shall we discuss this?" he asked Minerva, who nodded before seating herself back on the couch and clearing a space next to her for Dumbledore to sit, which he did promptly, gesturing to the lone chair in front of him for Hermione to sit even as Minerva burrowed comfortably into his side. Hermione jumped up easily onto the chair and sat facing the couple, still looking guilty.

If she hadn't been so used to magic in her life, Hermione was sure that she would have found the entire conversation one of the oddest experiences in her life, as the two Professors sat down and had a serious conversation with a leopard cub. Even so, Minerva looked distinctly uncomfortable with the prospect.

"Miss Granger," she began, then faltered. Luckily, Dumbledore came to her rescue.

"Minerva and I are married," he said simply, by way of explanation. To her credit, the only shock that Hermione showed was a sudden twitch of her tail, though beside Dumbledore Minerva had gone suddenly pale at his bluntness. "I trust I do not need to press upon you the importance of keeping such knowledge of this to yourself, and Mr. Potter I daresay," he added with a knowing smile. Hermione's ears flickered uncomfortably, but she couldn't deny that she would tell him and Dumbledore knew it.

"If word of this were to get out, it could mean much more trouble not just for us but for the Order as well," Minerva explained, finding her voice at last. Hermione found the odd change in her usually strong and opinionated Professor's demeanor very interesting, but she was obviously very out of sorts because of the night's events. Hermione felt bad for causing her such problems; after all, Minerva had been nothing but kind to her, and Hermione would have rather died than betray her favorite Professor. With a small series of nimble leaps, Hermione was in Minerva's lap, purring softly.

"I'd say she understands," Albus said to Minerva, reaching out to scratch Hermione between the ears. "What do you say to sending her back to Mr. Potter?" he asked his wife. "I daresay that Harry can take care of her for the night without raising suspicion," he added. Minerva nodded, and then gave Hermione a pointed look. If the leopard could have blushed, she would have as she leapt off the Professor's lap like she'd been scalded. Minerva shot her an amused look as she stood, and then waved her wand to shrink Hermione's belongings. After a quick farewell kiss, she was moving through the door, Hermione's shrunken things in her pocket, and Hermione at her heels.

"Stay close to me," the witch reminded Hermione as they set off towards Gryffindor Tower. Luckily, they encountered no one, and the common room had long since emptied of everyone but Harry, who had stayed up to wait for Hermione despite the Amazon's protests and was now fast asleep on the couch.

"I'll let you wake him," Minerva said softly, as Hermione padded forward and jumped onto the back of the couch. She waited until she had crawled onto his chest to bat him gently on the chin with a paw. To his credit, Harry managed not to look too surprised by the presence of a leopard on his chest waking him up, but that may have had to do with McGonagall's timely explanation.

"I figured I had kept your girlfriend long enough, Potter," she said, moving further into the common room and placing Hermione's things, now their regular size, on a chair nearby. "I'll leave her in your capable hands. If she's not back to herself by tomorrow morning, take her to Professor Dumbledore and tell everyone she's sick," she added. "He'll make sure she's taken care of. Goodnight," she called, and was moving through the portrait hole before Harry could really respond.

"Well aren't you adorable," he said, looking at Hermione again. "Have fun with the Professor?" he asked. Hermione nodded. "Tired?" Another nod. "Alright, you can sleep in my room tonight," he told her, giving her a gentle shove to get her off of his chest so that he could stand, gather her things and head up the stairs.

The little leopard cub followed him up the stairs and jumped onto his bed, snuggling close with a soft, steady purr when he laid down and closed his eyes.

"Bloody hell!"

Ron's exclamation carried through the room, waking Hermione the next morning. At first, Hermione was confused as to what Ron was so obviously shocked about, and why he felt the need to wake her, especially when she was so comfortable, but then with a furious blush she realized that she was using Harry's chest as a pillow, and he wasn't wearing a shirt. Like she had been scalded, Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, waking Harry in the process, who looked around blearily and just groped around on his nightstand for his glasses. The motion only served to uncover even more of his bare torso, and if possible, Hermione blushed even more violently, into a shade that would have made any Weasley proud.

"What's going on?" Harry asked when his glasses were firmly perched in his nose and he too was sitting up, his fingers mindlessly tracing a pattern on the small of Hermione's back. Though the Amazon was hyperventilating, the vampire beside her seemed unperturbed.

"Bloody hell," Ron said again, though luckily this time he accompanied it with a gesture to the two of them, blue eyes wide as he took in Harry's naked chest. Hermione took a frantic stock of the situation. She was still wearing her uniform from the day before, and she couldn't exactly remember how she had gotten into Harry's bed in the first place. In fact, the entire night before was a little bit fuzzy to her, though it may have had something to do with the fact that she was turning every shade of red under the sun, and that Ron was still gaping at them. Or maybe it had something more to do with the fact that Harry's fingers were tracing a soothing pattern across her flushed skin, and she was having a hard time concentrating enough on anything aside from the sensation he was causing. Luckily, Harry seemed to have more of a mental capacity than she did, because he took charge of the situation while Hermione was still gaping in an unconscious mirror to Ron.

"Do you have a problem, Ron?" Harry asked, voice commendably calm as he ran a hand through his hair, which was tousled as usual.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, as if incapable of saying anything else. The fact that he seemed to out of sorts with everything was at least helpful to Hermione, who was working her blushing back down to a normal level, and had managed to relax somewhat into Harry's embrace.

"If that's all then, Ron," Harry said with a small smile, reaching out to pull the curtains around the bed closed, leaving Ron gaping like a fish on the other side. Hermione, deeply embarrassed though she was, couldn't help but giggle at the mental image, something which she was sure would not help Ron recover his wits anytime soon.

"No offense," Harry began idly as he slid from between the sheets and began to rummage for clothing in his trunk, "but I'd prefer not waking up to Ron staring at us the next time I get to wake up with you in my arms."

"How can you be so damnably calm about this, Harry?" Hermione finally managed, after looking at him askance for a moment or two. She was still confused about how she had ended up spending the night in Harry's bed, and why he seemed so unbothered by it, even in the face of Ron's reaction.

"Well, since you're fully clothed, and I invited you to sleep in my bed last night, I would have been less calm had I woken up and not found you there," he said as he buttoned his shirt. Hermione didn't say anything, so he continued. "Besides, its not as if you could have survived the night in your room without me to take care of you, so here was the logical option," he added, pulling his sweater over his head. Hermione let out a small eep as various scenarios of what had happened to her last night ran through her mind. "Do you not remember?" Harry asked suddenly, peering at her closely.

Mutely, Hermione shook her head, steeling herself for the worst.

"Hermione, you tried your animagus transformation last night," Harry said, so low that she almost didn't hear it. "And McGonagall dropped you off with me when you were done, but you hadn't transformed back yet, so I brought you up here," he explained, still sotto voice. Hermione sighed in relief as everything from the night before began to come back to her, blushing deeply when she remembered why it was McGonagall had decided to bring her back to Harry instead of having her stay in the Transfiguration Professor's rooms for the night.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked her, worried over the large amount of blushing that his girlfriend seemed to be doing that morning. "I'm sorry if it bothers you that Ron found us this morning and I just want t let you know that if you're uncomfortable with it we can take it slow," he said cautiously. To his surprise, however, Hermione burst into laughter.

"Darling, you're sweet to say that," Hermione said, standing and giving him a thorough kiss on the mouth, "But that's not why I'm blushing now," she added. "Now that you've reminded me of what happened last night I remember that I found out a little secret last night, and that's why McGonagall dropped me off with you instead of keeping me with her. She shouldn't have done so," she added a bit reproachfully. "Imagine if Ron had opened the curtains to wake you up and found you in bed with an adolescent leopard."

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry said, realizing that, as usual, his girlfriend was right. Hermione giggled again, her seemingly random swings from embarrassment to laughter beginning to baffle Harry to no end.

"I'd imagine she didn't either," she said, still laughing. "She was so glad to be rid of me at that point I'd imagine she would have done anything that was suggested," she said. Harry gave her a clueless look, so she decided to fill him in on everything.

"After I'd transformed, Minerva told me that I had free run of her quarters, and so I spent a majority of the time looking at all the books on her bookshelves while she graded papers. Apparently I was fairly hidden, because at some point Dumbledore walked in and pulled Minerva off the couch to kiss her full on the lips. I fell off of a stack of books in shock, and luckily Minerva caught me, but then the two of them had some explaining to do. I could tell just by looking that it wasn't the first time they'd kissed, and they looked entirely too comfortable with the action for them to pass it off as something of that nature.

"So the two of them sat me down," she said with another laugh, remembering how strange the conversation had been. "And explained themselves. Apparently, they're married, and have been for quite some time. Their rooms must connect, or Dumbledore would have known that I was in the room. They forbade me from telling anyone but you, of course, for safety reasons," she said as Harry nodded knowingly. "And, of course, I wouldn't dream of telling anyone else anything, but McGonagall was sure glad to have an excuse to have me leave the room. The instant that Dumbledore mentioned that you might be able to take care of me instead of her she nearly carried me out the door," she said with a smirk.

By that time they were both ready to go, and Harry was once again looking pensive as he shouldered his own bag and grabbed Hermione's, despite her silent protest.

"You know," he said, low enough so that only she could hear him, "It's possible that we may have enough on them that we could come clean about our secrets without worry. Dumbledore knows about me, but he's not in a position to even really remember it much, let alone tell anyone else thanks to Morgan. And I know you've been dying to tell your favorite professor your biggest secret, or at least tell someone aside from me and Morgan about it. It's possible that now you have a guarantee that they won't tell. I'm already going to tell her, or at least tell Morgan to lift the spell a little on Dumbledore, since its not too nice to make the man keep secrets from his wife," he continued, still speaking so that his words were for her ears alone. "Its entirely up to you of course," he continued a bit louder. "I'll probably remedy the odd situation tonight at our meeting, and I'll be sure not to say anything to them about you, aside from that you know about me," he added. "I'll leave it to you to decide."

"Thank you," she murmured, her thoughts going every which way at 1,000 MPH. On the one side, Harry was right, she had been wanting to tell someone about her Amazonian status, and who better to tell than her favorite Professor, especially when said professor had confided such a huge secret in her, even if it had not been her intention to ever share it. On the other side, however, the more people knew about it the more likely it was that the wrong people would find out. That and the fact that Hermione was having a surprising amount of fun sneaking around and keeping secrets, despite the nagging urge to tell an authority figure what she had been doing. She was still adjusting to being that authority figure herself; if she turned herself in for rule breaking then she was hardly the Amazon Queen that she had worked to become. Either way, her decision would take a lot of thought.

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	9. Monster

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 9: Monster

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Be entirely tolerant or not at all; follow the good path or the evil one. To stand at the crossroads requires more strength than you possess.

Heinrich Heine

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It was dark when Harry made his way to Minerva's office to attempt his own transformation, his mind made up on telling her his secret, but the weight of doing so, and the possibility of Hermione following suit. She had been too silent all day long, and luckily Ron had concluded that it was because of how he had found them upon awaking while Morgan hadn't questioned him. Harry, however, knew that she too was hit by the enormity of the decision in front of her, and he had no doubt that she was even now sneaking out of her room and slipping through the deepest recesses of the Forbidden Forest to consult with the rest of the tribe on the matter. He also knew that it was up to her to make her decision, and that it was up to him to do as his own conscience decreed.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said as he entered the Deputy Headmistress' quarters after a polite knock on the portrait.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," came Minerva's voice from a straight-backed armchair on the other side of the room, pulling his attention towards the woman. Instantly, Harry realized that she must have been worried about facing him, knowing that Hermione would have told him everything. She was sitting impossibly straight, and while her posture was always flawless, there was a tense rigidity to her position that spoke of discomfort and preparing for a trial. Though her lips curled into a faint smile as he stepped further into the room, as they always did, the movement seemed strained and she quickly stopped smiling, taking a sip of tea instead. That was another thing that, to Harry, spoke of her discomfort, since it was a technique that Celdere used quite frequently when she was expecting to need a moment in which to compose herself. There was nothing like taking a sip of something to naturally pause the conversation for just as long as it took to get control of one's emotions, and there was nothing like busying yourself with a beverage to hide unsteady hands.

"I daresay that by now Miss Granger has told you of what she discovered during her session with me last night," Minerva said, boldly beginning the awkward conversation with the irrefutable statement.

"Your secret is safe with the both of us, Professor," Harry said solemnly, not knowing what else to say to such a flat out sentence.

"Your assurances are most welcome, Mr. Potter," Minerva began flatly. "But I'm afraid that your silence is the least of my worries on this matter. Of course, they are not why you're here," she added with a wave of her hand as Harry opened his mouth, though he was still unsure what he would say. He closed his mouth a little gratefully. "Let us begin with our lesson then," Minerva said, a little quickly, as if she wanted to get off the subject of her marriage and back into familiar territory. Harry seized his chance before it was gone.

"Professor, if I could discuss a small matter with you first?" he asked politely. "I, well both Hermione and I really, but I can only speak for myself, were honored that you decided to confide yours and Professor Dumbledore's secret with us, even if doing so was not your original intent. I am fully aware that you could have obliviated Hermione, or done something else to prevent us from knowing or telling, and the fact that you didn't do anything says that you trust us. After thinking about it for a while, I realized that I haven't been exactly deserving of this trust, because I, too, have been keeping a secret. Professor Dumbledore knows about it, but he was charmed so that he could barely recall the information, let alone tell you. The fact that I'd been not only forcing him to keep his wife in the dark about this but also the fact that you were perfectly trustworthy and a valued friend made me a bit guilty, I will freely admit it.

"I've decided," he said, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for her reaction, "to share that secret with you as a show of my good faith. I can only hope that this does not detract from your estimation of my trustworthiness." He took another deep breath, and a glance at Minerva's now curious face. "I am a vampire." Even without his sharpened senses, Harry could have heard a pin drop into the silence as Minerva's face went from shock to a cold, stony expression. "And not just any vampire either, I am a vampire prince, and heir to the vampire throne." He couldn't help but sound proud about it, as he had been conditioned to feel, but he was still feeling a little guilty about not telling her when he had started animagus training.

"And I assume that Miss VanPraet is one of Celdere's?" Minerva asked calmly, but Harry detected a bit of frost in her tone. Harry nodded.

"Yes, she is. Brice Morelock is as well," he added, a bit offhandedly.

"A babysitter? You seem to gather those like they're collectible, Mr. Potter," she said with a Snape-like sneer. Harry was beginning to see that Minerva was obviously prejudiced against vampires, but he was hoping that he could do away with such ideas before they began to have a negative effect on him and the other vampires in the school.

"I was told that Brice Morelock is no one's babysitter, Professor," he added respectfully.

"Perhaps not," McGonagall said, with a shrewd look in his direction. "But I'm sure if he were to become one for anyone it would be for his Mistress, or to get on her good side. It seems that you would be the way to do that, so you'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word," she scoffed. Harry couldn't recall a time when she had ever used such a tone with any of her students, even Malfoy, and he was hard-pressed to come up with a time when she had used it with anyone else. Those instances he could come up with had involved Umbridge or Fudge, or both, and that mere fact didn't bode well for the direction that this conversation was going. He would not allow her to lump him in with the Toad and her ilk.

"Professor, I'm sorry if this news is alarming to you or brings up any bad memories. I intended neither, simply a repayment of the trust that you have shown me. I can see, however, that I did not succeed on that count, and I beg you to let me attempt to address any issues that you have so that our lives, and those of Brice and Morgan, may continue as usual, or changed for the better," he pleaded. The look she shot him was very nearly iced over.

"I have nothing more to speak with you about on this subject, vampire," she said coldly. Harry stared at her, stunned. He supposed that he had not thought that she would so obviously dislike him after he shared his secret with her, and he had been spoiled by Hermione's good natured acceptance of it. "Hermione knows?" she asked abruptly. He nodded, speechless. "Your secret, and those that you have revealed in this conversation, will remain in my strictest confidence to honor the repayment of my trust in you, though I now think it more misplaced than I had originally thought. What little I am responsible for in your education, both formal and informal, I will continue to be responsible for, out of fairness for you as a student, but I will tell you now that I do not appreciate the reality of that statement. Your animagus training will continue tomorrow; I believe this is all the excitement this particular lesson can handle." Harry knew a dismissal when he heard it, and nodded his head stiffly in thanks and acquiescence. He didn't like the note that this meeting was ending on, but he knew better than to push his luck. Hopefully she would come around, and if not, the uneasy truce would have to do. It was better than no truce at all, he realized ruefully.

"Thank you, Professor. I will see you at the same time tomorrow night," he said formally, turning to go. He had barely touched the portrait backing when she spoke again, this time so quiet that he was unsure if he would have heard her had his hearing not been what it was.

"I am disappointed in you, Harry," she said softly, sounding so incredibly sad that Harry wondered if she had been hoping and praying that she would never have cause to say those words. For the first time since his change, Harry felt the horrible twist of disappointment in his own stomach, amplified by her words and the intense feeling behind them. He had considered what Hermione and Ron would say, if they were to react negatively, but he had known somehow, somewhere that they would accept him, even if it took a little convincing on his part. With Minerva the situation was entirely different, and he realized that as much as he had come to see her as a sort of mothering figure (in her own, brusque way) he didn't know her well enough to have known the same thing. He also hadn't expected himself to be close enough to her to care what she thought about his species.

Bitterness tinted his actions as he pushed out of her rooms and spilled into the corridor beyond, sweeping with vampire speed through the halls and passages, so embroiled in his own emotions that he neither noticed his speed or his destination until he was halfway across the grounds, eyes fixed determinedly on the massive wall of tree trunks ahead of him that was the Forbidden Forest. Even then, he didn't care enough to slow down, and didn't adjust one iota of his bearing until he was well into the forest and his demeanor shifted into that of a hunter. Then, tormented by a grief that he could not name, he spun sharply on his heel, vanishing with a loud crack.

He reappeared in a dimly lit chamber with a crack that made the first sound like the faintest whisper of a pop and closely resembled the booming crack of a firework exploding. To their credit, the people within the chamber didn't jump twenty feet in the air, instead merely turning their attention towards him and away from the dark haired woman on the dais. With a snarl, Harry took a threatening step forward.

"Harry, darling, how good to see you, although I shouldn't be seeing you at all," Celdere said with the smallest trace of a frown on her delicate features. "Can you wait for a moment, I'm a bit busy, as you can see," she added with a careless gesture to indicate the six or seven men that were also in the room. From the look of it, it seemed that Harry had interrupted a strategy session of some sort, although it was missing some important figures to make it complete.

"What did you do to me?" Harry bellowed, his hands curled into a close semblance of claws. Celdere's face barely changed, a credit to her self-control, but the skin around her eyes and mouth tightened almost imperceptibly as her eyes hardened and her gaze grew frosty. That, combined with the slightest movement of her head so that it was cocked a fraction of an inch to the side, was more warning than words, shouted or not, could have been. There was a moment of nearly tangible silence, as the men near the dais waited with bated breath to see what would happen, knowing the warning signs as well as Harry. "Monster," Harry sneered with deliberate emphasis and slowness, making it seem as if the word was finishing his previous words.

Celdere's eyes never left his angry green gaze as she addressed the gathered men. "Thank you, gentlemen, that will be all for tonight." They left quickly, with murmured goodbyes, knowing better than to stick around for too long with their Queen in such a mood. Celdere waited until the door was firmly closed behind them before speaking. "Your insolence astounds me. Few have ever dared to call me such a thing," she said with the same calmness and efficiency in her voice, although her eyes still betrayed the anger.

"I know no other name for someone who does to people what you did to me. Monster," Harry said again, with the same deliberate pause before the word. This time, he moved into the center of the room as he spoke, until he was directly in front of Celdere.

The vampire's entire face hardened into impassiveness so intense that it seemed as if her skin were molded of plastic. "If I did not know better," she said deliberately, "I would call you stupid. As it is, I'm sorely tempted. Believe me when I say that it is only my high regard for your happiness and well being that is preventing me from punishing your insolence. Know anyway that greater men than you have been killed for less."

"You won't kill me," Harry said with a smirk. "You need me, and it is because you need me that I hold all the cards."

"You're right, I won't kill you," Celdere conceded. "But the need I have for you does not and will not prevent me from punishing you in such a way that you would beg for me to kill you. Even one who is immortal knows that there are things worse than death, and some of those things are made even more terrible by the fact that they cannot kill you, for whatever reason this may be. Do not test my word," she warned him.

"What did you do to me," Harry repeated.

"I've a feeling that you already know the answer an are about to tell me. Please, enlighten me," she said, with a wry twist to her lips.

"You turned me into a monster!" Harry yelled. "You robbed me of my humanity!"

"I did no such thing!" Celdere thundered, standing so quickly that it didn't even seem as if she had moved; one moment she was sitting, and the next she was standing with no in-between. "If you are a monster, if you have lost your humanity then that is your doing, not mine," she said loudly, but firmly. "I will not have the blame for your doings heaped upon my shoulders."

"You turned me into what I am," Harry interjected angrily, his words coming close on the heels of hers. There was a moment of silence, filled only by Harry's heavy breathing as his anger still boiled. Celdere raised an elegantly shaped eyebrow, and considered him with a calm and level look.

"I see now," she said softly. "If by 'monster', you mean 'vampire' and by 'humanity' you mean 'mortality' then yes, I will take credit for turning you into what you are. But, and this is a big but, I don't create monsters and if I do it is a grave error on my part, no matter what any prejudiced idiot will tell you." She gave a slight, humorless smile at her unintentional pun. "And I assure you, I always fix my mistakes." Harry opened his mouth to say something but she continued, silencing him with a small noise and a gesture.

"No, let me finish," she ordered. "I am still Queen here," she reminded him. "I did not turn you into a monster, I turned you into a vampire and that's a big difference. I'll remind you that you agreed to the deal we struck up, and you know that you ended up gaining a lot more than I did from that particular business deal. I gave you strength," she began, listing each as if ticking them off of a list. "I gave you speed. I gave you power and I gave you grace. I gave you an entire nation at your beck and call, to carry out your every whim. I gave you the training and skills that you will need if you have even the slightest hope of surviving against the Dark Lord. I gave you immortality. And what did I gain? I gained a means to resistance against Voldemort. Without this bargain you would probably not be alive, and even if you were you would have a very faint chance of surviving this war. Without you, I would have simply had to resist less effectively, but I would have done so regardless. I did not force this deal on you, you did that to yourself because your acceptance was not critical enough to my war effort.

"Now, I don't believe you're a monster, no matter what you think or what anyone else thinks. You do yourself a disservice by buying into that way of thinking, and you do a disservice to your girlfriend, who is, I have no doubt, the love of your life. Do you think Hermione would be willing to even date someone who was a monster? From what I've seen of her and from what you've told me of her, I know that she is smarter than to do that. So the way I see it, you have two options. Option one, she knows you're a monster and is preparing to break off your relationship and your friendship, or option two, you're not a monster. Have some faith in her judgment.

"So," Celdere said, not unkindly. "Now that we've ironed that out, are you going to tell me what happened?"

Harry shifted from foot to foot, feeling a little stupid for his earlier outburst now that Celdere had managed to make him see sense.

"It's not all my story to tell. All that I can say is that some new information came to light and the situation at Hogwarts has changed somewhat. I removed the binding from Dumbledore, since this information has now made this security measure cruel." Celdere raised a questioning eyebrow, but didn't comment. "And, as a show of trust and good-will, Minerva McGonagall has been told, and no restrictions placed on her. I trust the both of them to keep their mouths shut, and it is cruel for me to force them to keep their peace."

"And Minerva rejected you, didn't she?" Celdere questioned softly. "She's the reason you came in here a monster. You trusted her to accept you and she rejected you in the worst way. Some prejudices are hard to dispel," she counseled.

"It hadn't occurred to me when I decided to tell her that she would be upset by it, especially not after Dumbledore and Hermione were so okay with the revelation," he almost whispered, sounding slightly wry even though Celdere could see that he was still upset.

"Well, of course they were fine with it, and Minerva's reaction makes perfect sense," Celdere told him gently. "Darling, regardless of her past experiences with our kind," Celdere began in a lecturing tone, "Dumbledore and Hermione are very different from Minerva. There are very few things that can give a vampire pause, and Minerva knows it. One of those things is another vampire. Another is a werewolf, but ONLY during the three days of the full moon, when they have their strength, speed, claws and fangs for them to use. Unless they transform they are little threat to our kind, no matter how in touch they are with their beast. Fenir Greyback may be almost entirely feral all month long, but even he couldn't use enough of the werewolf abilities he has at his disposal to be a match for one of us outside the full moon. The only way Fenir would be a match for us is if he used his wand. The third thing that is a threat is a wizard, but only with the proper spells and only with the ability to cast them, and to cast them under pressure. That requires a confidence in skill and ability that most humans don't have when faced with an angry vampire. And with our superior speed, they have to be fast casters and accurate casters to even hit us. Not many wizards fit that bill. My guess is that, in addition to bad experiences, Minerva is scared because she isn't confident enough in her casting abilities to be otherwise. Dumbledore is. He wasn't afraid of you because he knows, from his experience, that he's at least an equal match for everyone and everything that he could possible come up against. He's killed one Dark Lord and has the other running scared, and he does all of that without batting an eye.

"The final thing that causes a vampire to be wary is, believe it or not, an Amazon. Magical or not, an Amazon has enough skills with weapons to hold her own. You could arm an Amazon with a paperclip and she could probably manage a vampire to a big enough degree. But Hermione, who by Amazon standards is still untrained, no matter how skilled she may be, knows that whatever her fighting skills, instinctively she knows that she can at least hold her own, and weapons will have little to do with that. Our strength and speed give us an advantage over other attackers, and while you could beat an Amazon in a foot race and snap a man in half with little effort, you could not snap an Amazon in half, and your speed will do you no good if you use it to speed a blow aimed their way. You might not even be aware that you are not moving as quickly as you could and that your blows are not landing with the bone-shattering strength that they could have, and she is probably unaware that she has the power to make that happen, but instinctively she knows that she has leveled the playing field, and that advantage is all the assistance she needs to defeat you. And she has already, hasn't she?" Celdere asked suddenly, seeing the sheepish look that crossed Harry's face. "That is why you lost, and only experience can make you invulnerable to it. Luckily, you'll have several lifetimes to gain it," she added.

"So basically," Harry began after a slight pause, "I tried to reassure her but only ended up bungling the entire affair," he said, a trace of bitterness in the words.

"Perhaps, but you did so unintentionally, and you had no way of knowing that she would react badly. Truth is, the reason she didn't stake you right then and there is because of me, and because you're you. It's not my story to tell, but let's just say that Min had a bad encounter with some vampires, and its taken me years to get her to trust me enough that she will tolerate myself and those I send as my delegates. That you're my heir makes you one of those trusted people. And, you know Minerva and her love for her students. She would do anything to save any one of you, and she is disappointed in both you and herself. Look at it from her point of view, I literally killed you while under her watch, however indirectly and however alive you are currently. She will be beating herself up over that."

"How do I work to bring her around?" Harry asked, sensing that of all people Celdere would be the person most likely to know how to do that besides Dumbledore.

"Be yourself. Show her that you aren't any more of a monster now that you've been changed than you were before the change. And most importantly, don't be late to her class," she said with a smirk.

Harry checked his watch and swore, darting forward to envelop Celdere into a hug, apologizing profusely, before dissapparating on the spot.

He appeared back at Hogwarts, just outside the anti-apparation wards, checking his watch again. He would be going without breakfast, that much was obvious, is he wanted to get to class on time. Cursing his breakdown under his breath, Harry started to run through the forest, dodging trees with barely a second thought, but thanking his lucky stars that he had vampire speed. Without it there was no way he could possibly make it to the forest edge on time. He had only made it to the small clearing just inside the forest line where he and Hermione usually checked their speed and appearance after their forest outings, barely half of his journey since from that point on his vampire speed would have to go unused, when he literally collided with a leopard running full speed ahead towards the castle.

Acting out of instinct, Harry rolled to his feet, turning with a feral snarl to confront the leopard, who had also rolled to her feet with cat-like agility and had bared her teeth at him. It took him a heartbeat, but the leopard looked familiar, and if he wasn't mistaken the leopard had gone from a fierce baring of teeth to something closer to a smile. Just as he was reaching the peak of confusion, the leopard popped and a smiling Hermione was in its place.

"I'm still getting the hang of this," she said by way of explanation, darting forward to give him a quick hug and a peck on the lips. Harry was speechless, but decided that she was talking about the pop (which didn't happen when McGonagall did it), and let her pull him forward by the hand towards the castle. "We're going to be late for Transfiguration if we don't get a move on Harry," she said impatiently when he didn't move as fast as she wanted him too.

"Wouldn't want to do that," Harry said bluntly, obliging her and moving faster as they emerged from the forest and began to cross the lawn. Something of last night's inner struggle must have shown in his voice because Hermione, intently focused on walking as fast as possible back to the castle, snapped her head around to pierce him with an odd look.

"Late night?" she queried, giving him one more long look before returning her focus to walking quickly.

"No later than yours," Harry said mildly, not sure yet that he wanted to tell her how badly last night had gone, but earning him another sharp glance.

"Yes, but my last night was not spent outside the wards like yours was, from the look of things," Hermione said frostily, obviously unsure the reason for Harry's uncharacteristic vagueness when it came to telling her things. "I presume Celdere is doing well," she continued.

"Never better," Harry said brightly, too brightly for Hermione to not be suspicious.

"Jesus, Harry, stop it!" Hermione snapped, stopping dead in her tracks. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Harry stopped a few steps in front of her.

"Not now, Hermione," he said, gesturing for her to continue walking. She didn't budge, not satisfied with his answer. "Please, Hermione, we're going to be late," Harry all but begged.

"Minerva will forgive us," Hermione said steadily. "And since when are you so eager to get to class on time?" Harry didn't say anything. "What happened last night that you aren't telling me? I'm not going anywhere until I find out what it is, and I have all day."

"I'll tell you but we have to move," Harry growled, stepping back to grab Hermione by the arm and propel her forward, "or Minerva will literally stake me." This comment earned him a startled glance, but Hermione started moving of her own free will once more.

"There, we're moving," Hermione said. "Now spill."

"I told Minerva about my… condition… last night," Harry began after a slight pause, becoming intentionally vague as they came close to the castle. From his point forward it would be possible for them to be overheard by students late to class and teachers with a free first period, and they would need to speak in semi code, as well as very quietly. Luckily, Harry had had practice pitching his voice so only certain people could hear. "And suffice to say she was not happy. At all. She said that she would continue to teach me, but that our relationship would not go beyond that. Basically she'll associate with me as much as she's required to and no more. I'm lucky she's such a fair teacher, or I probably wouldn't have gotten that," he added dryly.

"I'm not sure I believe that, Harry," Hermione said in a hushed tone. "I mean, Minerva doesn't strike me as the sort with racial prejudices," she said hastily as Harry's gaze snapped to her. Both of them knew that she wasn't talking about the difference between skin colors and nationalities, but rather the difference between humans and werewolves and vampires.

"She wasn't at liberty to say, but Celdere implied that Minerva had a bad experience with a vamp a while back and had help a distrust for the whole lot of us ever since," he said lowly as they headed up the stairs in the entrance hall. Now that they were inside there were crowds enough to hide what they were saying, and there was little worry about them being late, but the continued to rush, so involved in their conversation that they barely noticed the crowded halls. "Regardless, she made it clear that she would not treat me differently as a student, but that she would not do me favors outside of that. And she made it clear that she was disappointed in me for choosing as I did. I walked out of there thinking I was a monster," he said softly. Hermione's pace faltered but Harry urged her forwards again with a hand to the small of her back. "So I took a trip to see Celdere and yell at her for turning me into a monster, and luckily she managed to convince me otherwise. By the time we were finished discussing it, it was morning and I was going to be late," he added. "Needless to say, I'll be attempting to bring her around, but who knows how that will work."

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione said softly as they rounded the corner and walked into the Transfiguration classroom, just as the bell rang. Heedless of the bell, Hermione reached out to touch Harry's arm comfortingly as they both stopped, on unspoken agreement, just inside the door. Both jumped, however, when the door shut behind them with a slam. Looking towards the front of the class, the pair found McGonagall standing in front of her desk, wand raised and pointed at the couple.

"Take your seats," she said, voice a bit crisper than usual. Hermione reddened and opened her mouth to apologize, but shut it again as Harry tugged gently on her hand as a subtle warning and plea to remain mostly under the radar. She shot another sympathetic glance at him and allowed herself to be lead to her seat, although she couldn't help but look up to meet Minerva's eyes. The professor's eyes were hard, and her gaze didn't soften as it met Hermione's, which had changed from sympathy to a warning.

"Human transfiguration," Minerva began abruptly, after a silence long enough to make most of the class shift uncomfortably in their seats, breaking eye contact with Hermione with a finality that made Hermione's heart ache. "Is a complex and dangerous form of transfiguration. Though animagi fall into this category, what we will be studying today is quite different. Whereas an animagus only has one form, using human transfiguration you can transform yourself and anyone else into any animal or thing. Also, where an animagus retains all of their human intelligence, the person you transform will have only the intelligence of the thing they are turned into. Turn a person into a dog, and they're turned into a dog in every sense of the word until you turn them back.

"The spell is up on the board, as are the wand movements. Split up into pairs and begin when ready," she said, beginning to walk around the classroom to supervise.

"So how did your late night conversation go?" Harry asked, ignoring Morgan's odd looks and concentrating on mimicking the wand movements drawn on the board.

"Better than yours did, that's for sure, although I wouldn't have called it fantastic before you told your story and I certainly won't now that you have. After quite a bit of arguing and very nearly all out fighting, I managed to reach a decision. I'll let you know how it goes. I hope better than yours," she muttered under her breath.

"I'm sure it will," Harry said soothingly, turning to face her. "Ready?" he asked, wand raised.

Hermione nodded but continued to talk. "I'm not so sure. The look she gave you was nearly withering, but the look she gave me was nearly as bad. If she's disappointed in you, she's upset with me. For being taken in by your supernatural wiles," she added with a mirthless smile.

"Potter," Minerva said loudly, right behind Harry. "Is there something in my instructions that was not clear to you?" she asked, all three of them aware that around them a large portion of the class activity had stopped.

"No Professor," Harry said quickly.

"Then perhaps you can enlighten me as to why you and Miss Granger are sitting here talking instead of working on the assignment," Minerva continued. Before Harry could speak, she had moved on. "I'm sure you were discussing something very important, right Potter?" she asked, not waiting for an answer, but plowing on ahead without it. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, do you think anything you and Miss Granger could be discussing in my class could be more important than doing the work that I have assigned you in order to pass my class?" she snapped.

Feeling rather like he was being led right into a trap, or worse, his death, Harry had no choice but to answer honestly. "No Professor, it won't happen again."

"I sure hope not," Minerva said. "Now I want to see you demonstrate the spell for the class," she demanded, rather Snape-like, if not in appearance than in request.

Harry swallowed and squared his stance, watching as Hermione did the same opposite him, her hands balled into fists. He swung his arms slightly, like an athlete trying to loosen up the joints, in a not-so-subtle hint for her to relax, only raising his wand when he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders. Locking eyes with her, he waited for her slight nod before conjuring the picture of how he wanted her to be in his head, and said the spell.

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	10. Putting the Past Behind You

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 10: Putting the Past Behind You

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Do not trust all men, but trust men of worth; the former course is silly, the latter a mark of prudence.

Democritus

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The entire class watched as Hermione's body turned soundlessly into the slim form of a leopard, its spots faintly marking the woman's tribal tattoos. The entire class stood silent in shock, due to the size of the leopard, but Harry and Minerva remained mostly unimpressed. Unwilling to give it away, Harry stayed where he was, wand raised, as the leopard crouched into a wary position, taking in the surroundings. However convinced the rest of the class was, Harry knew that his spell had not worked, though why it hadn't he wasn't quite sure, and that Hermione had made the almost instantaneous Animagus transformation in order to save face for him. Though he had been picturing the very leopard that stood before him, simply because now he could not imagine his girlfriend as anything else in animal form now that she was an animagus, he knew that it was not because of him that it was there in front of him. A real leopard would not have been content to wait for an attack.

"Your pronunciation needs a little bit of work, Potter," Minerva said finally, coldly. Harry nodded, glad to at least have an answer as to why his spell had not worked. The downside was that McGonagall also knew that Hermione had helped him, and that was probably not going to go over too well. "25 points from Gryffindor, for failing to pay attention in my class when you should, and for transfiguring Miss Granger into a potentially dangerous animal," she said, ignoring the growing snarl coming from between Hermione's curled back lips. "In addition, I believe a detention with me tonight should reinforce the idea that paying attention in class is crucial to your success. Don't expect to be free before 9:00," she added coolly.

Though Harry knew that this was her way of informing him that she wanted to meet with him again at 9 for his animagus work, the 25 points and detention that went with it was nearly painful, mostly because she had said she would treat him as she treated every other student. She was treating him like Snape would have, given the circumstances.

"What definition of 'fair' are you working under, Professor?" he demanded angrily, his words thankfully drowned out by the ear-splitting roar of outrage that came from Hermione. Both professor and student turned slowly from their somewhat toe-to-toe confrontation to face the irate leopard, who was glaring hatred at Minerva, teeth bared, crouched to pounce, tail lashing from side to side furiously.

"I'll have no arguments from you on this matter, Potter," Minerva said calmly, more calmly than someone confronted with an actual leopard would have been.

"Yes, Professor," Harry snarled, echoed by Hermione. Dismissing Harry, the Deputy Headmistress returned a level gaze to meet Hermione's angry eyes.

Tension sparked between them almost visibly, and students were beginning to edge away cautiously as the unspoken fight for dominance continued. Eventually, Minerva deliberately broke eye contact with a look that clearly said 'knock it off, Miss Granger', and turned her back on the snarling leopard to return to her rounds of the classroom.

With another roar at the slight, Hermione pounced, flying thorough the air gracefully towards Minerva's emerald-clad figure. Without second thought Harry hurled his body between Hermione's and the Professor's, cursing Hermione's Amazon powers as the sudden burst of vampire speed he needed to get in front of Hermione failed and he only just managed to knock her to the side mid-leap, though he had the feeling that he felt the impact more than she did as his strength returned to human levels. He hit the ground and scrambled to his feet instantly, placing himself squarely between the leopard and Minerva as the leopard regained its feet with a predatory grace. To say that Hermione was pissed was an understatement Harry realized as he met her eyes calmly. When Harry met her gaze without flinching, or stepping aside, Hermione gave a low, questioning growl.

"No," Harry said firmly. Hermione gave a rumbling snarl. "I said no," he repeated.

The leopard's tail lashed once, as warning, and then Hermione feinted once and went the opposite direction, attempting to streak around Harry to get to Minerva, who was watching with an odd look on her face. Thanking the heavens that Harry had started moving left as she feinted right, hoping to call her bluff, Harry didn't need his speed to intercept her this time, and he managed to land a good, solid blow straight on Hermione's snout, cuffing it down like some people did with misbehaving curs.

"No," Harry said again, this time with a rumbling growl that came from deep within his chest adding weight to the words. Much like a beaten cur, Hermione slunk away from him, one eye on him at all times.

"I'd suggest turning her back to herself, Mr. Potter, unless you want her to attack the entire class," Minerva said pointedly. If Harry hadn't been so preoccupied with watching Hermione he would have turned around and started yelling, however, he was also beginning to think that he needed to force her from her animagus form, so that she would at least have to pretend she wasn't furious.

Harry said the counter spell quickly, probably bungling the pronunciation on it as well, but regardless, Hermione shifted back to her human form, nose bleeding profusely, and the skin around her eyes already beginning to bruise. Luckily, Minerva took pity on her, and decided that she had had enough for the day.

"That nose looks like it may need some of Poppy's expertise, Miss Granger," Minerva said, with more kindness in her tone than had been in it all day. "But I'd like to see you later today, in my office. Come and find me as soon as you're released," she requested.

Hermione nodded stiffly in her direction and gathered her things wordlessly, all the while not touching her nose, which had to have been quite painful, nor doing anything to stem the bleeding. The desire to not show weakness in front of the Professor must have been incredibly strong, Harry realized as he watched her toss her bag over her shoulder and head for the door.

"Potter," Minerva said curtly. "Go with her. You, I will expect to see in my office for your detention at seven."

"Thank you Professor," Harry said just as stiffly, gathering his things angrily and following Hermione, using his vampire speed once he was free of the classroom to catch up to her.

Continuing to show great restraint, Hermione waited until they were in the Hospital Wing and Madame Pomfrey was scanning the injury to see the extent of the damage to yell.

"You BROKE my NOSE!" Harry wisely remained silent. "What on earth were you thinking, stopping me like that? I don't need a babysitter, Harry, and I could sure do without any more broken bones!" Hermione yelled, somewhat cryptically to Poppy's ears, but Harry caught the entire meaning.

"It would have been a mistake, Hermione, and we both know it. Righteous anger only does so much, and it rarely helps any," he said gently.

Silence fell until the nurse left.

"I can't believe you let her manhandle you like that, Harry," Hermione hissed viciously. "Is her fear of vampires so great that every principle under which that woman teaches flies out the window whenever one is concerned? If that's fair then I'd hate to see what happens when she turns into Snape," Hermione declared.

"And what would you have had me do? Confirm her idea that I'm a monster?" Harry returned. "If anything now I have to be even milder. She poked the beast to see if it would bite, and I had to roll over and ask her to rub my tummy," Harry spat, not much happier about the reality of the situation than Hermione. "Fighting her when she has the upper hand is stupid, Hermione, and you of all people should know it. But apparently the Amazonian tactical awareness flies out the window alongside every "principle under which that woman teaches" when faced with an opportunity to pull the bloody trigger and just attack. And thank you so very much, Hermione, for doing just that. Not only does she think I've seduced you with my "supernatural wiles", but now she'll think I'm controlling you, and that my influence might as well be vamp venom when it comes to you. What else could convince you to attack a teacher?" Harry reasoned, mind flashing back to third year, when Hermione had stood beside him in the Shrieking Shack whimpering about just that. "We attacked a teacher," she had said, slightly sing-song, eyes wide with fear, "oh, we're going to be in so much trouble." That Hermione was no longer anywhere to be found, replaced by a furious Amazon Queen who punished those who wronged her as she saw fit, and showed no remorse.

Indeed, the only remorse Hermione was showing thus far was over the fact that Harry had stopped her. That fact continued to hold true throughout the day. In fact, when Hermione knocked on the door to Professor McGonagall's office later that day, she was still just as furious as she had been in class that day, if not more so. This was, in part, caused by her own mental anguish at having the perfect image which her favorite professor represented in her mind shattered as Hermione's sense of Minerva's overwhelming sense of fairness dissolved into nothingness. It was also caused by Harry's unwillingness to take a more active role in defending himself. This was, in fact, so odd and unexpected that she feared she had overreacted slightly, at least in regards to how much she, as an outside observer, should have stepped in. However, she felt very strongly that Harry should not have chosen this particular point in time to get complacent and, if she was honest, Hufflepuff-ish. This was, of course, in no way meant to be an insult to Hufflepuffs everywhere, but the fact that they took quite a beating before attempting to give any damage back was a well-known quality, and was an admirable one up to a certain point. That point, it appeared, was when Hermione was more willing to come to blows with a professor over an issue than her hotheaded boyfriend. Such a thing never happened, and she was convinced that something was wrong with him. However, there was no time to investigate that theory further at the present, since they both had places to be and things to do, and psychoanalysis was not among them for either of them.

"Enter," came Minerva's voice, strong but slightly muffled from behind the door. Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was sure would be a taxing conversation as well as trying to shove down some of her anger and outrage, and turned the knob, taking the one, long, precise stride that was required to put her just on the other side of the door. As a concession to the anger she felt, she stubbornly moved no further, and made no move to close the door.

"Ah, Hermione," Minerva said by way of greeting, looking up at last from the papers she had been marking with red ink. A trace of a frown came over her face as she took in Hermione's position in the room, but otherwise she didn't react. "Please, close the door so that we can have a bit of privacy," she said, watching as Hermione did exactly that, and no more. "Have a seat," McGonagall said curtly, gesturing at a chair in front of her desk.

Having no choice, Hermione walked stiffly to the chair and sat down, sitting far enough back that she could not be considered poised to flee, and yet close enough to the edge that it was clear that she was not ready to make herself comfortable and at home, behavior that was a marked change from what had become the norm in her and the Deputy Headmistress' relationship. Once she was settled to her satisfaction she looked up, meeting the professor's eyes, cool gaze unwavering, once more locked in a small struggle for dominance. Much like the one from earlier that day, it was Minerva who was first to break the contest, but whereas the last time it had been with a slight, this time it was with a heavy sigh and a weary expression crossing her face.

"Has our ability to converse with each other easily been reduced merely to staring matches and pissing contests, Miss Granger?" the Transfiguration Mistress queried, looking tired and feeling slightly fed up, if her language was any indication.

"Depends, I suppose, on whether or not you're going to return to playing fair," Hermione said coolly, a slightly smug look on her face. Had someone told her even a few months ago that she would be saying things like that to McGonagall of all people, she would have said they were crazy. As it was, Hermione was pissed, and so her sense of propriety went out the window.

Minerva sighed and looked out the window, one hand going to her temple. "I know my behavior was abysmal," she said so quietly that Hermione almost missed it, "but he's a _vampire_, Hermione," she added urgently, as if trying to make the Gryffindor see sense.

"Regardless, Professor," Hermione said, heart unintentionally softening towards her professor, who so obviously was misguided. "he is your student. Though I hate to say it, you have the right to treat him however you like in private. But in a classroom, surrounded by his peers, he deserves to be treated equally, if not with the slight favoritism that is occasionally shown to the three of us. To do otherwise makes it seem as if you're taking a leaf out of Snape's book. And if you won't treat him equally for those reasons, then keep in mind that your word as much as promised him that you would treat him fairly in class, and continue to teach him. You broke your word today, Professor, and though he may be inclined to let you get away with it, I am not," she finished grimly.

"I swear to you, Hermione," Minerva said, voice quivering with indignation, "I did not intend on breaking my promise to him, to myself, to treat him equally, but that is what happened and I feel all the worse knowing that it was unintentional. It may sound silly to you, since I can tell after having talked to you for only a few minutes that you will not rest easily until he is treated fairly, but there are those of us who are afraid of vampires, no matter who they used to be. As it seems to be the trend, I will entrust you with yet another of my secrets, although this one is more widely known than the first. When I was young, my brothers and sisters and I were attacked by a group of vampires and absolutely savaged," she began, without much of a hitch n her voice. "We had decided to play hide and seek and go past the area where we were allowed to play in and head towards the woods, where the trees made things easier for our game. They were teaching us a lesson, they said, to do as our elders said and not to break the rules. That they were there to keep us safe and once we broke them that we were fair game, fair morsels," Minerva added with a shiver, tears welling up in her green eyes, though she blinked them back furiously. "I was the only one to survive mostly intact, with only a few cuts and bruises, nothing too terrible, but some of my siblings were so badly wounded that the blood loss," she stopped, started again, "By the time my parents figured out what had happened," she couldn't go on, and her voice cracked as she fought to keep from crying. Hermione remained silent until Minerva was ready to continue. "What do you say to a child who has seen her brothers and sisters die? They told us that it wasn't our faults, that the woods were unsafe and they had tried to protect us and failed, but that it was them that were at fault for the entire thing. We hadn't killed them, the vampires had. We were told that the only creature that would do that sort of thing was a monster, and I equated the word with the creatures I had seen that day, and with the fear I still felt for them.

"I know you might not believe me, but I carried that irrational fear with me into my adult-hood, into the now. Even seeing someone who looked like they could be a vampire reduced me to a helpless kid again, and it wasn't until I met Celdere that I realized that vampires weren't all bad. It took forever, and its still a work in progress. Much like Harry, I had come to trust her before I found out, and her gentle persuading managed to convince me that she was no more going to hurt me now that I knew than she was going to when I didn't. Gradually, she's been introducing me to more and more vampires, all sent to me with word from her, all hand-picked for their kindness. I am not stupid, Miss Granger, I know that there are vampires under Celdere's control that are like the ones who I met that fateful day, and I've come to know rationally that vampires are like humans, some are bad and some are good but you don't know until you meet them. You can look at a vampire and say you're evil, but they may not be. You can look at a human and say you're good, but look at Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You can look at a Slytherin and call them a Death Eater, look at a Gryffindor and call them a hero, but it isn't true when Voldemort has Lions in his ranks and we have snakes in ours. But regardless of what I know to be true, when it comes to Harry, and when it comes to those vampires Celdere sends me, I cannot fully curb my reaction, and it shows most painfully. I have managed to stop reverting into a little girl again by becoming curt and detached. I am so angry with him, and disappointed in him, that when I went to act to him as I would Mr. Malfoy," Minerva said candidly, "I could not stop and tone it down, and my efforts only made my behavior more out of control. And you standing up for him, using a skill that I had taught you to aid him. You attacked me in more ways than one with that demonstration, Hermione," she finished softly.

"Someone had to, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him, or anyone else in that class for that matter," Hermione said bluntly. "Only the three of us even knew what was going on, let alone had the balls to do something about it. And it looks like Harry's were suspiciously missing, and that says a lot. Whatever you said to him last night, and no I don't know all the details, you convinced him that he was a monster. Celdere managed to convince him otherwise, but in his heart he still feels like you have the right to judge him and be mad at him. He loves you, and he trusts you like he trusts Dumbledore. He will take whatever abuse from you two because of it. I trust you as well, to almost the same extent but I won't stand by while you abuse my boyfriend, Professor, either of you."

"How can you be so calm and assured about this, Hermione?" Minerva wanted to know. "You aren't worried that your boyfriend will accidentally hurt you?"

"He couldn't, he's too nice. And I don't break so easily anymore," Hermione added, taking a deep breath. "I had meant to tell you this after class today, but things changed a bit. Professor, you trusted me, and by proxy Harry, with your greatest secret. Harry wanted to repay that trust by entrusting you and Professor Dumbledore with his greatest secret. However wise that was of him remains to be seen, as its done nothing but cause him torment ever since. But Harry's not the only one with a secret to tell, and he and I both reached about the same conclusion. Now, here's to hoping that you take it better than you took his.

"I am the Amazon Queen, Queen of all Queens, of all the tribes of the world." Hermione waited for an explosion.

"I thought you were…" Minerva began.

"Extinct?" Hermione finished. "Not quite. History left out some important facts. We helped it forget, naturally, but still its been forgotten."

"But, how…"

"The Amazons came to me much the same way Celdere did to Harry. The vampires wanted a clear allegiance against You-Know-Who, and they didn't think that Harry could help them as much as they hoped for without vampires skills and vampire training. The Amazons felt much the same way, but they wouldn't ally themselves to Harry directly for obvious reasons. In the past, we have allied with Celdere as leader of the vampires, but now that Celdere was allying herself under a male, we couldn't even do that. Their only option was to pick me to become an Amazon. They did their homework, I do have to give them that. They knew that if they allied themselves with me, and not Harry, that they'd end up seeing the same action, because Harry couldn't make me leave his side. They also knew that Harry would treat me as an equal, so even though I consider myself on Harry's side, I'm sort of on my own side at the same time. That started with one tribe. Once I was trained up enough to hold my own, they pitched the idea to the other clans about uniting all the clans under one Queen, the Queen of Queens. They proposed that that Queen be me, because I would need every tribe's loyalty if I was to direct them in this war. I won the right in combat, and have been ever since."

"So you've known that Harry was a vampire for quite some time," Minerva said with a sigh. Though deadly, Amazons weren't dark creatures, so this piece of news was easier to swallow.

"Not as long as you might think. When Celdere approached Harry and he agreed to become prince, she made sure to keep as much of the entire thing a secret as she could to protect him from unnecessary attacks. What news got out to those who were listening for it, which Dumbledore wasn't which is why you didn't know, all that they heard was that the vampires were fighting against Voldemort and that they had clearly allied themselves to the proper side, and turned one of their new allies the Prince. No, we figured out the prince was Harry when we captured him wandering the forest one night, along with Professor Morelock, Morgan, and a few more vampire bodyguard types.

"Harry's training and new status has done nothing to make him less impulsive than he already was, if anything its made him slightly more so. So when a bunch of vamps are out sneaking around the forest and get dragged into camp trussed up like turkeys, Harry does what he always does: he tries to bravado his way out of the situation. Since generally its Death Eaters capturing him he usually goes for insults, but since he really had no clue who he was dealing with, he decided to try and threaten us with the wrath of the Vampire nation when he was brought before me. I had taken care to disguise myself, but he hadn't, and I knew that Harry didn't know about the new vampire prince so it couldn't be a bluff. The Amazons wanted to kill them then and there, but I stepped forward and proposed single combat so that he could win his freedom by defeating me. During the fight, I accidentally got a little know-it-all-ish and he guessed who I was. In a panic I knocked him out, and when he woke up, we both told each other how we felt about each other. We've been together ever since; I've met Celdere and we get along, and he's spent quite a bit of time with the Amazons."

After a moment of Minerva trying to wrap her head around the entire tale, she decided to just ask a few questions and hope it would all make sense. "So you've known since before Christmas, and haven't said anything to anyone, and haven't once felt threatened by the fact that he's a vampire?"

"He may be a vampire, but he's still Harry. Celdere took his mortality, not his entire personality. The only changes are those I'm sure you've already noticed: confidence, grace, happiness. And now that I'm an Amazon, I have even more confidence that if something does happen, I can hold my own. Just knowing what he is gives me enough of an advantage, since I know I know the spells I'd need to take out a vampire. With an Amazon's skill with weapons, I know that I can best him in a fight as well. I suppose it makes me a bit more confident than your normal witch or wizard, but he's not the type to attack a person just because he's a blood-sucker. He's still Harry, and he's hurt that you think he's changed so much as to be a danger and a monster. He's emotionally fragile, that hasn't changed," Hermione added knowingly.

"I guess I knew that, under all of my other emotions, I just needed the chance to think about it, and your perspective has helped quite a bit. If you don't mind, however, I'm going to need the rest of the day to prepare to apologize to him when he shows up for detention, so I'm going to let you go with two warnings.

"Warning number one has to deal with the Forbidden Forest, which as Albus has pointed out, is forbidden. However, I can tell that neither of us will be able to stop you, so just remember that you have been warned.

"Warning number two has to deal with your animagus transformations, which I can tell you were practicing. Now, none of your classmates noticed your little stunt in class today, and I'm starting to think that they don't notice much, but still that is a risk you shouldn't have taken in the first place, regardless of how well you thought you could act the part of a feral leopard. You didn't fool Harry or myself and if you pull enough stunts like that even your clueless classmates will clue in. Your animagus form should be used only when necessary and with as much discretion as you can manage. It's not a secret weapon if its not a secret, and if you're a true Amazon I shouldn't have to tell you that. I don't appreciate you using it to attack me with it either, nor that fact that Potter had to break your nose to get you to back off. I don't want a repeat, am I understood?" she said strictly.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said somewhat meekly, standing and heading for the door.

"Don't expect him back too early, Hermione," Minerva said softly before she could turn the knob. "I mean for him to transform tonight, and I'll turn him over to you when I know its safe to do so, which may not be until he turns back. You are free to wait up, but it isn't necessary, I will find you when I drop him off, if I drop him off," she cautioned. Hermione nodded her acceptance and turned the knob again, pulling the door open and stepping into the hall.

"And thank you for trusting me," Minerva added, so quietly that Hermione wasn't even sure that she hadn't been imagining things.

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	11. Free Bird

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 11: Free Bird

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We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.

Joseph Campbell

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By the time Harry made his way to Minerva's office for his detention, something that still made him slightly upset, he was thoroughly confused. Hermione had come back from her meeting with Minerva in a much better mood than she had left for it in, though Harry was still fairly sure that she wasn't happy with that morning's events. And try as he might, he couldn't get one word about the meeting out of his girlfriend, who was stubbornly ignoring every attempt he made to learn something. That alone would have confused him, since she was usually willing to share things with him, but the fact that she was still upset about what had happened during class and yet had come back from the meeting happier than when she left… Harry was reminded that he had no idea what went on in the female mind.

As if to make things even more bewildering, Minerva's greeting when he knocked on her door was carefully neutral, and she didn't even sound like she was fully paying attention. Harry hesitated, and then pushed the door open, taking a few steps into the room and stopping, much like Hermione had earlier that day.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, her tone guarded but her eyes were warm. She waited a second, for Harry to come further inside presumably, because when he didn't move she made an impatient tsking sound. "What is it about that particular spot in my office that is so attractive to you and your girlfriend? I can't imagine standing in that spot is better than sitting in that chair," she said crossly, pointing at one of the chairs that were across the desk from her. Harry decided that Dumbledore must have put them there, because they looked too plush to be something Minerva had picked out for her office. Still, the command that was veiled behind her words was there, and so Harry started towards the chair as instructed.

"Please close the door," Minerva added, a bit snappishly, before Harry could get out of arm's reach of the door. She waited until he was seated before surveying him over her spectacles, placed low on the bridge of her nose. Only once she had taken a good, long look at him did she continue. "Harry, I never really intended for you to have detention tonight, regardless of what I made it seem like. I want to apologize for my abysmal behavior earlier today. I was totally out of line and I thank you for defending me from an angry Hermione in spite of it. I didn't knowingly or willingly lie to you last night, and I want you to know that I made an effort to keep my fear under control, but as you can see I was unsuccessful. It's going to be tough, but I want to overcome it completely. In order to do that I need your help and patience." Harry looked away.

"You need a vampire's help?" he questioned bitterly, even with her admitting that she was totally in the wrong, brought up remnants of the feelings of last night. However, Minerva surprised him.

"No, Harry, I need _your_ help." Harry looked up quickly, confused. "Hermione helped me understand something today, and that is that you're still Harry. You may be a vampire, but that's not who you are. I should have known that you wouldn't change just because of something like that, especially after watching your years here as you tried to get out from under being the Boy Who Lived. I'm only sorry that it took me being attacked by an angry Amazon Queen turned panther for me to figure that out."

Harry couldn't help but offer her a small grin at her wry statement, but unexpectedly felt tears welling up in his eyes at her acceptance. Minerva continued, studiously ignoring his tears as he tried to get himself under control.

"Now, I'd like to make it up to you, and not by giving you detention. What do you think of animagus training as far as an apology goes?" she asked with a grin.

"It works, Professor," Harry said, with a grin.

"Good," Minerva said, matching his grin. "I had been rather hoping you would say that so I came prepared," she added, pulling a stoppered vial from one of her desk drawers. It didn't look like it was going to be the best tasting potion he'd ever drank, but it also didn't look like it was going to be too bad. "I was thinking that we should start in here, since people are accustomed to being able to find me in here for a while after dinner, but we can move into my quarters if it's important to," she added. Harry wasn't quite sure how they would move if he was odd enough that they needed more secrecy, but he didn't say anything about it. "Whenever you're ready, Harry, you need to drink it all," she told him.

Taking a calming breath, Harry stood and moved into the empty space right behind him, unclasping his robes and tossing them on the chair he had just vacated. Then, with the ease of someone who has taken many potions, he unstoppered it and knocked it back, swallowing it without really tasting it. Automatically he started to put the vial back on the desk, but was halted midway through the motion as the pain hit him. This pain was much different than anything he had experienced before, and though he tried to block it and focus on something else to lessen the pain, as had worked in the past, he could not ignore the grinding, twisting, and stretching of his body as it changed shape.

With a pained snarl, Harry's feet shifted into a fighting stance, and under the stress he could feel that his canines were beginning to grow. His fist clenched once, shattering the vial effortlessly, before opening the palm and letting the crushed glass spill from his hand to the ground. And then, before Minerva's eyes, his arms began to turn into wings. He shrunk rapidly, skin and clothing erupting in feathers as his feet turned into large talons. His vision sharpened, though it was still made hazy by pain, and his nose and mouth turned into a wickedly curved beak.

Because his eyes were still open, he saw Minerva's movement out of the corner of his eyes, but his brain still addled by the pain, couldn't make sense of what he saw. Minerva reached out towards him, and instinct took over. He wasn't even aware of having moved when Minerva quickly withdrew her hand with a gasp, the back of her hand showing red where his beak has broken skin. Only then did Harry remember himself, looking upon the scene with a bit of confusion, but without the pain. His wings, very tiny since he was just a fledgling, unfurled and beat the air once as he let out a pitiful screech.

"You pecked me," Minerva told him crossly, drawing her wand and pointing it at her hand. "Episkey," she said, watching her hand heal before putting her wand back in a pocket of her robes. "Although what I expected from a vampire with a bird brain I don't know," she muttered. Harry got the feeling that the witch was not actually upset with him, but rather that she was just cross about having been caught unprepared for something.

"As I'm sure you guessed, by my commentary," she continued. "You're a bird, although what kind I can't tell since you still have your chick feathers," she told him, unable to stop the small smirk from forming on her lips for the briefest moment. "Even still, you're fairly large for a baby bird, so I'd say you'll end up being one of the larger birds, not a sparrow. And judging by that beak you have," she said, cross tone returning to her voice as she rubbed the back of her hand, "I'd say you'll end up as a bird of prey of some sort. You don't look like an owl, so you'll probably be a raptor of some sort."

Harry looked down, well as down as he could, and could barely make out his talons. Wanting to look at more of them, he lifted one foot and tried to move it further into his field of vision. All that happened was that he saw a flash of his talon as he toppled himself. By the time he figured out how to get himself back to his feet, Minerva was chuckling.

"Want a mirror?" she offered, still laughing. Harry gave an angry sounding squawk, but that only made her laugh harder, instead of intimidating her into silence, as he had intended. Minerva only took a minute to conjure a mirror, and then she turned it so that he could see.

What he found was that what Minerva had said was true, and he looked thoroughly unimpressive because he still had little downy feathers instead of actual plumage. He was hoping that he would grow out of that soon, because without it he wouldn't be able to fly. Well, that and he looked ridiculous.

"I wouldn't worry about the feathers, Harry," Minerva said, interrupting his inspection of his talons, which he was pleased to see were impressive even at their small size. "You're already starting to molt," she informed him, picking up a feather from off the floor before standing. It was only then that he realized how low to the ground he really was, since Minerva towered over him. He didn't think he really like the feeling. "I'm going to grade some papers while you molt, and then I'll help you learn to fly before I hand you back to Hermione. Luckily a bird of your size in this castle is not unheard of," she added.

Resigned to waiting, Harry decided to attempt to figure out how to walk as a bird. After knocking himself over a few more times, he managed to put one foot in front of the other some fifteen minutes later. Wondering furiously how birds did this all the time, he continued his efforts.

All in all, molting took him about 30 minutes, which was just as he started to get the hang of this walking thing. He was still not full sized, but he could tell that he was getting pretty close to it. He gave a small shriek to catch Minerva's attention, and then continued to practice his walking as she came around the desk.

"This is going to be the fun part," Minerva said as she bent down towards his level. "Because learning to fly means falling from a great height," she reminded him, putting her hand down so that he could climb into her arm. Harry gave a slightly alarmed squawk at the idea of being tossed into the air repeatedly. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter. Not only are you more indestructible than you were last year, but I'm quick with levitation charms," she said in a too-cheerful manner. Harry glared at her for her forced cheerfulness, but allowed himself to be hoisted into the air, and then lifted even closer to the ceiling with a levitation charm. Just as he was beginning to wonder when things were going to start happening, the charm's support vanished, leaving him to tumble through the air with an undignified squawk. His body was caught inches before the ground with a jerk as the charm yanked him back into place, and after taking stock of his situation, Harry realized that he was on his back, which would not help him fly at all. He had thought he had more control over his wings than that, but apparently flying was going to be just as obnoxious to learn as walking had been.

Whereas walking has taken him 15 minutes to get a somewhat mastery of, and 30 minutes to master totally, flying took him a good hour before he could do anything more than tumble through the air. Even then, his progress was only to manage to slow his descent, which was better than nothing, he supposed. After that, thankfully, it didn't take too much longer for him to catch on to how flying worked, and it was only three hours after his "detention" had started that he was soaring across the room to perch on Minerva's shoulder. The deputy headmistress had long since given up on standing the entire time, especially when all that was needed from her was that she be handy with a levitation spell, which she could do sitting or standing so long as she was paying attention.

"Why don't we return you to your girlfriend, Potter?" she asked, raising a hand to stroke the soft plumage of his chest. Harry gave a warble of agreement and tried not to dig in his talons as he fought to keep himself perched on Minerva's shoulder as she stood and started walking towards the door, grabbing her hat and setting it atop her head before she pushed the heavy oak doors of her office open and stepped into the hallway.

"It's past curfew so no one but the prefects and teachers should be about," she told him, softly just in case someone was nearby to hear her talk to herself. Harry knew that there was no one ahead of them, thanks to his sharper hearing, but decided not to attempt to correct her behavior. It was good to be cautious, especially in times like these. The halls were eerily deserted, which was explainable by the curfew, but Harry was unused to not having to sneak around, and so the quietness of the halls that were echoing Minerva's brisk footfalls back at him was more unnerving than usual. Those students they did run into were busy doing their patrols for the night, and merely said a quick hello and went about their business, as did the teachers that they encountered, although they tended to want to be chattier. Minerva managed to put everyone off until the next morning, using various excuses, and eventually they were standing in front of the Fat Lady.

Before Minerva could open her mouth to give the password, though that was some time after they arrived in that spot since the Fat Lady seemed to get rather talkative around that time of night, the portrait slipped open just the tiniest bit, and a slim figure slipped into the corridor and into the shadows created by the torches on the walls. Minerva would have dismissed it as a trick of the light, but Harry's eyes were sharper than hers were, and his ears were catching the sound that told him that a person had just snuck out of bed. The slightest tightening of his grip on Minerva's shoulder told the professor not to dismiss it, as she would have, and she set about searching for the figure in the shadows.

"I beg your pardon, but I really should be getting back to my rounds. Perhaps we could continue this conversation some other time?" she enquired politely. The Fat Lady seemed disappointed, but still agreed and Minerva turned towards the patch of shadow where she had last seen movement. Moments later, the Fat Lady was flitting away to some other frame to gossip with one of its inhabitants, leaving the three of them alone.

"Sneaking out after hours, Miss Granger?" Minerva said after a long moment of silence. Silence met her statement, but Minerva persisted. "I brought you your boyfriend back, as I'm sure you're glad to know he's still in one piece."

"How did you know it was me?" Hermione asked eventually, stepping into the light to reveal that she was in full Amazon garb, covered with a black cloak.

Minerva gave a mysterious smile, but gave an answer nonetheless. "I borrowed a bit of a tabby's sense of smell and recognized your scent. The cloak may help you blend into the shadows, but it smells more like you than anything else because of how often you use it. Without it, I may not have recognized it, but with it, there are very few people that good at sneaking about in the dark who keep their clothes in the same room as Miss Patil and Miss Brown. How much perfume do they use?" she asked rhetorically, wrinkling her nose. Harry couldn't help but agree. Though his eyes were no match for a cat's in the dark, they were still fairly good working with what little light there was to work with. He had been able to see enough to recognize the way that Hermione moved, but even without that, Minerva's assessment of how Hermione's cloak smelled was accurate, and Harry could smell it. He was familiar enough with being around Hermione even when she was with the Amazons, and he was used to having a keen sense of smell, so he might not have needed the cloak in order to identify her by scent alone, but Lavender and Parvati's perfume was a dead give-away.

"Quite a lot, as I'm sure you can imagine," Hermione supplied, though it wasn't necessary.

"You should be more careful when you sneak out, if you're going to insist on doing so at all," Minerva lectured, as Hermione unclasped the cloak and draped it over an arm. Doing so made her feel strangely naked, though she was so used to wearing her Amazon leathers that she was amazed at the sensation. She was glad that the light was dim and that it hid her blush from the other witch.

"I didn't realize that she Fat Lady was talking to a real person, professor, I'll be more careful next time. She usually just talks with a friend from a portrait down near the kitchens, and she never says anything when there's so small a disturbance in the portrait," Hermione added, deciding to ignore the part of Minerva's lecture that disapproved of her sneaking out.

Minerva sighed, no doubt due to her noticing Hermione's omission. "Just be careful," the Transfiguration Professor stressed, shifting Harry to her hand in preparation to hand him off to Hermione. "Regardless of what you have planned for this evening, I hope you can schedule a very young golden eagle into them," Minerva said as Hermione's gaze shifted to Harry.

"Is this?" Hermione asked, stopping her question short of giving too much away. She reached out to touch him as well, but her hand stopped along with her question.

"It is, and he's all yours," Minerva replied with a smile. "Consider him my way of saying thank you for your trust and your advice from earlier today. It was quite useful," she added as she handed Harry off to the young Gryffindor.

"I'm glad," Hermione said softly, stroking Harry's plumage softly.

"I shall see you in class tomorrow. Goodnight, Miss Granger," Minerva said, with a pointed look at Hermione's garb, and a look at Harry, perched on Hermione's arm. Then, without another word, she turned around and walked back towards her rooms, where she hoped she would find her husband waiting for her. She had much to discuss with him.

Hermione watched her go, hand still absently moving across Harry's chest before she slipped back into the shadows, placing the eagle onto her leather-clad shoulder. The two of them slipped carefully though the castle, down all 7 flights of stairs, and out the doors, wary of Snape and Filtch wandering around just waiting to catch students out of bed. Once the well-oiled double doors had closed behind them, Hermione slipped along the castle walls, instead of setting out straight across the lawn as she normally did. Setting Harry to perch on the large marble stair rail that she was using to hide behind, she quickly transfigured her cloak into a leather collar that she could simply slip over her head once she transformed. Setting it on the ground, she transformed, quickly wriggling into the collar and giving Harry a quizzical look. With a soft screech, he beat the air twice with his wings and launched himself into the air, gliding across the lawn at an easy pace.

Hermione watched him for a moment and then followed at an easy lope, letting him lead the way across the lawn, around the Quidditch Pitch and the Lake, and into the forest.

From her window, Minerva watched them go, Harry's rich golden plumage muted to a duller brown in the moonlight, and Hermione merely a black shadow bounding over the grass. With a sigh, and a smile of satisfaction, she stood from her seat by the window and headed towards the bedroom that she and the Headmaster shared.

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"Rodolphus," Lord Voldemort began, his silky tone hinting at the danger of answering him incorrectly. "Perhaps you can tell me why your wife has failed to answer any of my summons of late?"

Rodulphus Lestrange swallowed hard, the sound clearly audible in the deathly silent room. He could feel the eyes on him from behind the masks of the other Death Eaters, and the expectant gaze of his master boring a hole to his very soul. His master could be very kind, after all, who had freed him from the torture that was Azkaban Prison, but he could also have a nasty temper when things didn't go his way. Rodulphus, who had been at the wrong end of Voldemort's wand in many such situations, and in situations like the one he was currently in, knew that as well as anyone. The price of failure was pain, and if that didn't work to motivate someone to success, then the price of failure was death.

"I do not know, my lord," he said cautiously, practically feeling the Cruciatus curse in the very words he spoke. "I assumed that she was away on a mission to serve you," he added. It was truth, he had no idea where his wife had gone off to.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Well, you know what they say about assuming things Rodulphus," he admonished. Rodulphus gave another hard swallow. "You of all people should know where she is, or can you not control your wife?" he sneered.

"Of course I can, my lord, my deepest apolo- argh!" he screamed, as the Cruciatus Curse he had been so dreading hit him.

"Lies," Voldemort hissed vehemently when he lowered his wand leaving Rodulphus to twitch on the floor. "You can not control her, or she would be here!" He was breathing heavily now, his anger at the stupidity of his followers on the rise. "I will give you a chance to redeem yourself, Rodulphus. Find her and bring her to me. I want her alive long enough to realize her mistake and beg me to spare her life before she dies," he said, calming down at the very thought. It wasn't a nice idea, simply because Bellatrix had been very valuable to him in the past, but she was of no use to him if she left his service. No one left his service without paying for it.

"Yes, my lord," Rodulphus said into the dirt, still lying prone on the floor.

"Get up!" Voldemort snapped, kicking him in the ribs to speed the process along. "Take however many men you need, just get it done! I want her ion the floor in front of me, begging for mercy, by the end of the month."

Rodulphus muttered his agreement, doing the math in his head. That was little more than two weeks to get the job done, and if he knew his wife at all, she would be very hard to find and even harder to bring in alive. Women!

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Bellatrix apparated back to the vampire fortress she had been calling home since Christmas, absolutely furious. How dare he come looking for her like she owed him something, like she was still under his control! Bellatrix may have ceased to be Voldemort's right hand woman, and left her husband, but that didn't mean that she still wasn't keeping what tabs she could on their movements, especially those having to do with her. She had come to Celdere knowing that at some point Voldemort would go searching for her, even if Rodolphus didn't, but she had never dreamed that he would send her own ex-husband after her. Not only was he not a match for Bella even when she had been pretending to be a simple witch, but now that she had stopped her charade, he was even less of a match for her.

Bella took a moment to toss her purchases from her outing on her bed before seeking out Celdere, trying to use the time to compose herself a little more than she had been when she arrived back home. It only vaguely worked, but it was enough for what she needed.

"We need to talk," she said without ceremony the instant she set foot in the throne room, interrupting one of the many strategy sessions that had been going on rather frequently since her arrival in Celdere's domain in December. The members of Celdere's advisory cabinet shot her dirty looks, as they clearly thought they had something important to say to the Queen, but Bellatrix knew that in comparison, her news and input was more important, since it could bring Voldemort down on their heads. Celdere had sword to protect her from him, as payment for switching allegiances, but the former Death Eater knew that forcing the vampire Queen to do so for her sake would be foolish, and wouldn't help their plans any. The vampires needed to not show their hand too soon, or Voldemort would attempt a pre-emptive strike that would weaken the vampires until they were of less use to Potter during the final battle. Even then, they might be too bogged down and embroiled in their own business to come to his aid. That couldn't happen, or all Bella had risked by giving up her old life would go to waste. A Black never gave up anything lightly.

To her credit, Celdere never looked surprised at any interruption, regardless of who it was, how disrespectfully she was interrupted, or what she was interrupted for. Instead, she gave the sort of calm reaction that made Bellatrix secretly want to try all the harder to force a crack into it.

"I presume it can't wait until the end of my meeting?" the Queen said pointedly. Bella shook her head negatively.

"You're definitely going to want to hear about this one now, and not later," she said firmly.

Celdere stared at her with an unreadable expression on her face but dismissed the council a moment later with a lazy wave of her hand. Each vampire left quickly and quietly, but they also shot disgruntled looks at Bellatrix as they passed her to exit into the hallway.

"What was it that couldn't wait, Bella?" she queried when the door had shut, and Bellatrix had stepped farther into the room.

"Voldemort has Rodolphus searching all over Britain to find me, and he's not being terribly subtle about it either. It seems as if the Dark Lord has decided that its time he make an example out of me." Bellatrix delivered the information impassively, though she was still furious over the fact that he presumed he had that much control over her. He never had in the first place, and Bellatrix was through with pretending he did.

Celdere frowned. "That's not going to end well for either party," she said with concern. "If he finds you, we're going to have to get involved much earlier than we had planned, and we won't be as much of a shock to him come the final battle if we're forced to get involved." Bellatrix had already figured that out for herself. "I suppose we just make sure that Rodolphus fails," Celdere mused to herself.

"It doesn't look like that's going to be as easy as you'd think. The Dark Lord has given him carte blanche to do whatever it takes, using whoever it takes, as long as I'm found. I'm important, apparently. And my ex-husband may be a failure, but even he couldn't mess this operation us with the resources he's been handed. Either you get involved and protect me, as you promised, or you go back on your word and I help the Dark Lord destroy you," she finished, tone brooking no argument.

"I'll keep my word Bella, don't you worry," Celdere said tensely. "But it's going to mess with things," she added with a heavy sigh. She should have known that Voldemort would come looking for Bellatrix sooner or later. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Bellatrix was all over the idea before it had even fully formed in Celdere's head.

"Well, they're looking for you, thinking you're a traitor. If they find you, they'll kill you, and I promised I'd protect you from that. But they won't kill you if they think you're still loyal, and that you'd merely been detained. If you're willing to go back into his service as a spy for us, we could control his perceptions of how strong the vampire nation is, as well as mislead him in a few other ways. But only if you're willing," Celdere concluded.

"I'll do it," Bellatrix said, after a moment's pause. She was reluctant to go back to what she had so firmly attempted to leave behind her, but what Celdere said made sense, and it would be nice to see Voldemort's face when he realized that he had been had. "On one condition: I plan this, and I'm in charge of this operation. I will report to you, but I know Death Eaters and you don't, so we do things my way."

Celdere gave an airy wave of her hand, as if such conditions were merely trifles. "Granted. Now what did you have in mind?"

Bellatrix paused for one moment more before speaking slowly as the plan formed in her mind.

"I'm going to need 8 of your most trusted men, and a lot of ashes."

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	12. Old Friends, Different Circumstances

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 12: Old Friends, Different Circumstances

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In the modern world of business, it is useless to be a creative original thinker unless you can also sell what you create. Management cannot be expected to recognize a good idea unless it is presented to them by a good salesman.

David M. Ogilvy

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_The Order of the Pheonix cordially invites you to_

_No. 12 Grimauld Place_

_At 8 o'clock Tuesday evening_

_for a meeting of allies_

Harry gave the letter, written in brilliantly purple ink (no doubt a favorite of Dumbledore's) and the Headmaster's elegant script, another glance over, and then looked at the letter that Celdere had sent him, which was incredibly short, but no less unclear.

_Harry, _

_I will pick you up at 15 minutes of 8 Tuesday night._

_I expect to find you dressed in your duBourg finest, fully armed, under a glamour, and waiting for me at the castle gates._

_You may inform Hermione and the Amazons about this event, since I am planning on requesting that Dumbledore allow their presence. I suggest that you let her know to be dressed in her finest, under a glamour, fully armed, and with a small retinue of advisors._

_Hugs and Kisses,_

_Mom_

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, sliding an arm around his neck as she seated herself on the arm of the cushy chair that Harry had seated himself in. Wordlessly, Harry held up the letter Celdere had given him so that she could read it, which she did.

"What event?" she asked, though Harry had already held up the invitation that Celdere had forwarded to him. "Oh," she said, reading that note. "What's so bad about this?" she asked quietly as Harry started setting both pieces of parchment alight. She felt rather than saw the privacy spell go up as the sound around them dimmed ever-so-slightly. "I mean, its an Order meeting. Dumbledore wouldn't have invited Celdere if he hadn't known that she would bring you along, and you've been trying to get into one of those meetings for ages. Not only that, but under a Glamour people may actually take your suggestions seriously for once," Hermione added with a hint of anger in her voice.

Harry sighed. "Yes, but the fact that we're going to be in a room full of people who know us very well is going to make this hard enough. Add in the fact that we're going to have to make excuses to Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna as to why we won't be around Tuesday. Ron and Ginny at least are probably going to get a letter from home telling them the bare bones of what went on during the meeting, since it will be an important one. And if Morgan ends up coming with us, its going to be even harder to hide this from Ron and Ginny," Harry completed, putting his head in his hands. "We spend enough time lying to them to sneak off as it is."

Hermione let her hand move up to comb through his already tousled locks, pulling his head back to rest against her side in an effort to soothe him.

"Then perhaps we should come clean with them, and then we wouldn't have to worry about it," she suggested softly. Harry tensed up, but Hermione didn't stop moving her fingers through his hair. "Or we continue to lie to them. When the time is right, we'll tell them. That time may not be now, especially given how the last few nights have gone as far as telling secrets." Harry relaxed against her side again, and Hermione continued in a different direction. "We will tell them as much as we can, and do what we must to attend this meeting. It is necessary for us to do so, and some sacrifices must be made. Morgan will do what she can to help us from her end, and if we still need more help, we have three professors on our side who want us to get to that meeting. I'm sure that if we asked they could help us with a cover story. And perhaps it is better for Ron and Ginny to find out about the Amazons and the Vampires from their parents in a letter, since we will be able to control their reactions with our own, and observe their feelings on the involvement of our two nations." Harry gave another sigh, but this one sounded less hopeless than the last one had.

"You're right, as usual, 'Mione," Harry admitted after a moment of silence. Hermione gave him a please smile, even though he couldn't see it. "It's part of the reason I love you."

"I love you too, Harry," Hermione said without pause, tenderly pressing a kiss to the top of his head before returning her attention to her hand moving through his hair. "And that is the reason why we sneak off as much as we do. Though we aren't always doing things that are romantic, we're together more often than not, and I'm sure they think its nothing more than us being a couple. Even when we're apart, we're working to make our future a better place. What could be more romantic?"

Harry didn't respond, instead pulling the witch beside him into his lap as easily as if she weighed no more than a feather, which Hermione supposed she did to a vampire. However, his super-strength was far from her mind as she snuggled into his shoulder, all homework forgotten for the night.

"Go see Dumbledore tomorrow and talk with him. He'll solve this problem for you," she murmered, for his ears only, as she dispelled the privacy spell.

"Alright," Harry said, agreeing, as he pulled her snugly against him and relaxed, leaving the problems for tomorrow to tomorrow. Besides, Tuesday night was still a good 5 days away. There would be more than enough time to figure out the logistics later.

One by one, the common room emptied as the fire burned down, leaving Harry and Hermione closer and closer to being alone. They had spent the rest of the night just taking the opportunity to sit there in each other's company, talking only when it was deemed necessary, and sitting in comfortable silence for the rest of the time.

"We should probably head off to bed," Harry commented as the common room emptied by another few people.

"You're so comfortable though," Hermione protested. "I don't want to leave your arms just yet. Can we stay up a little while longer?"

Harry smiled, and pulled her closer. "You don't have to leave my arms if you don't want to. Spend the night with me," he invited. Hermione stirred against his side in surprise. "It's not like we haven't woken up in bed together before, and it wasn't the end of the world. Besides, I promise you that I will never pressure you into anything you aren't ready for," he said sincerely. Hermione captured his lips with her own.

"Okay," she said simply, standing so that he could also get up, and letting him lead her by the hand up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.

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Tuesday night found Harry sitting in a tree in his animagus form, waiting just outside the gates for Celdere and whoever she was bringing to this meeting to arrive. Far enough away that they were separated, but not so far away that Harry's vampire enhanced eagle hearing couldn't hear them chatter, were Hermione and her retinue: Ainia, Otrera, and Helene. The soft pop of the vampire's arrival brought his attention back to the clearing in front of the gates and away from the Amazons. Doing a quick count, Harry realized that there would be 5 vampires in attendance, and he was also fairly sure that between the Amazons and the vampires, they would outnumber the Order.

"Where is he?" one of the vampires asked impatiently upon looking around the clearing and finding Harry not there.

"He'll be here, Carald," Celdere said calmly, just as Harry let out a shriek and left his perch to swoop gracefully towards the group. In the clearing, the Amazons quickly assembled into a small group and grabbed a portkey designed to take them to Grimauld Place. As they disappeared, Harry backwinged violently and transformed in mid air, falling the few feet to the ground, a grin on his face, pushing the tousled hair out of his eyes.

"Congratulations!" Celdere said, walking forward to embrace him after only a second or so of pause. "I didn't know you were that close to completing the transformation. I'll have to commend Minerva for her teaching skills after the meeting, which we are going to be late to if we don't get a move on," she added sternly. Harry sighed and tugged his robes straight and brushed wrinkles out of the fabric. "Your glamour?" Celdere added pointedly, fussing with the scarlet fabric that draped over her slim form. Harry flushed and cast the spell, conjuring a mirror to check his appearance before turning back to the Vampire Queen.

"Name?" she queried, drilling him in his cover I.D.

"Javier Stark," he replied promptly.

"Good enough," Celdere granted, continuing on with her drill. "For tonight your goal is to not get mad at anyone for any reason that would not be a legitimate one for Javier Stark. That means no getting mad at Snape for being Snape, and no getting mad at Molly for coddling you. You aren't Harry tonight. Also, I know Aurelia," she said, putting stress on the alias Hermione would be working under, "but we're far from friends. You have even less reason to know her well, and to know very much about Amazons in general. Her advisors, you will pretend not to know." She expanded the subject of her lecture to the rest of the group. "Speak when spoken to, and speak up if you have something to add to the table. Be polite, and make us look good. Got it?" She received nods all around. "Narit, on your count."

"The destination is number 12 Grimauld Place," Narit said calmly. "5… 4…3… 2… 1."

With another soft pop the entire group had left the clearing and was standing in front of the headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix, automatically adjusting their behavior to account for the eyes that would be on them. Letting Celdere take the lead, Harry fell into step just behind her, sensing the others do the same behind him. Having been forewarned, Celdere knocked lightly on the door, but even that small sound set Mrs. Black to shrieking, and when the door opened it was to the sight of Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks struggling to close the curtains and a nervous looking Molly Weasley ushering them inside.

It took one hiss and a view of a mouthful of fangs behind Celdere's ruby red lips to make the curtains fly back to cover the portrait, leaving a bewildered Tonks and Lupin staring stupidly at the wall until they had fully realized what had happened. "Good evening," Celdere said politely to the three Order members, voice coming out in a slight lisp around her fangs, which Harry noticed she kept in full view. It must have been the sort of thing that spiced up meetings like this for the Queen, because no one else seemed to find it out of the ordinary. Harry simply shrugged it off, and concentrated on his second first meeting with the Order members.

"You must be Celdere," Tonks said eventually, speaking up to break the silence that had fallen as they tried to make sense of the group of vampires sitting in the foyer.

"I am indeed," the vampire replied. "You must be Tonks," she added. "I've heard a lot about you. You're an Auror, correct?" Tonks could only nod. "That sounds like a rather fascinating line or work," Celdere commented smoothly, obviously used to such awkward conversations. "Perhaps after the meeting I can talk to you a little more about it. Has Dumbledore arrived yet?" she inquired.

"He flooed in with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape just before you knocked," Molly said, having finally found her voice and her courage. "He asked us to bring you into the dining room." Celdere gestured for her to lead the way, leaving Lupin and Tonks to trail the entire group into the meeting area.

Celdere swept into the dining room, walking straight to the opposite end of the table and conjuring a chair that looked rather like a throne. She paused for a moment while the rest of her retinue worked out their seating arrangement, nodding to Dumbledore across the table, Minerva at his right hand, and to Hermione, wearing Aurelia's new blonde appearance, at the center of the table. All three returned the gesture, and Celdere took that as a sign to sit. She was followed closely by Harry and the other 3 vampires. Dumbledore took that as a sign that the meeting should begin.

"If everyone could take their seats, I bring this meeting of the Order of the Pheonix to order," he said formally, waiting patiently as everyone sat, and ignoring the whispers that Celdere's entrance had caused, and the stares that both the Amazons and the Vampires were receiving.

"This meeting is a special one because, as you all can see, we have several new guests. At the head of the table we have Celdere du Bourg, Queen of the vampires, and her heir, Prince Javier Stark. Joining us at Celdere's request, we have Aurelia Vonner, Amazonian Queen of Queens. Ladies," he said formally, turning first to Hermione and then to Celdere. "Gentlemen," he added, with a nod to Harry and the other vampires. "I give you the brave witches and wizards of the Order of the Pheonix." Whispers and mutterings filled the room in the brief seconds that Dumbledore allowed, and in that time Harry's eyes found Hermione's across the table, relief evident in both gazes. It was the introductions that they had worried most about, which was why they had both gone to Dumbledore and told him of the entire ruse. With Dumbledore able to introduce them by name they gained some credibility to the others, and it was more impressive that way as well.

"My apologies, but we have a small amount of business to get through first, before we can begin to discuss how your two groups can be of help to us," Dumbledore said, hands spread wide in apology. "It will, however, give you the chance to see how we conduct regular business. Severus, I believe you had something to report?" Albus said, sitting back down and gesturing for the Slytherin to take the floor.

"Yes, Headmaster, I did. Severus Snape, Potions Professor at Hogwarts, and spy in the Dark Lord's forces," he said shortly, by way of introduction, accompanying his words with a small bow. Celdere regally inclined her head, and gestured for him to speak on, a habit that was evidently hard to break. Snape sneered, but continued on nonetheless. "As I reported last meeting Bellatrix Lestrange has not been to several meetings in a row. A few weeks ago, the Dark Lord was merely wondering where she was, but she still has not come back to his base, and the Dark Lord is beginning to get worried that she has betrayed him. He has given Rodolphus orders to find her in 2 weeks and bring her back to him alive. The half-wit has decided to accomplish this by sending out every Death Eater he can get his hands on all over the countryside looking for her, using all of the resources that he was given by the Dark Lord to avoid failure. That was five days ago. Two days ago, all of the search parties that have been sent out have come back missing members, with its survivors bearing news of struggles. It would seem that someone doesn't want them to find Bella, or that someone wants to decimate the Death Eater's numbers. The Dark Lord has yet to find out who is behind the attacks."

"Well, its nice to hear that we've been getting the message across," Celdere drawled, touching the tip of her tongue to the point of one of her enlarged canines to demonstrate her boredom with the entire thing. Heads swiveled so fast they practically fell off of the necks they were attached to.

"Consider it a belated Christmas gift," Harry added, speaking for the first time. Dead silence followed his statement as the Order members exchanged worried glances.

"You can't just go around attacking Death Eaters all willy nilly, Celdere!" Minerva said, a touch shrilly, her warning glare meant not only for the Vampire Queen but also for Harry.

"Why ever not, Minerva?" Celdere questioned calmly. Harry was reminded that Minerva and Celdere knew each other before this meeting, and that they knew each other fairly well. "It only takes one vampire to decimate the entire squad, and I send two just in case something happens. They leave one person alive to bring back the warning to the others, and its as easy as taking a stroll in the park."

"It's tactically sound," Ainia said suddenly, putting the Amazons in the limelight. "And historically proven," she added, aware of the eyes on her.

"Ainia is correct," Hermione said, throwing in her 2 knuts. "With the vampires' superior strength, speed, and reflexes, not to mention better battle training, they don't need high numbers to handle a small squad of 5-7 men. What's more, since doing so does not exhaust their resources, and since the vampire nation is large enough to supply the manpower several hundred times over, there is no real reason to stop them from putting a dent in Voldemort's troops." Minerva was looking at her favorite pupil as if she had sprouted a second head, but even with Minerva's obvious dislike of the entire thing he could not help but feel pride in his girlfriend.

"Additionally," Harry added, just wanting to drive the point home, "nothing has stopped the Death Eaters from doing their little raids on wizards and muggles alike over the years, putting a dent in our numbers while they get their kicks. We are merely doing the same."

"Regardless of the moral issues at hand here," Snape cut in with a sneer, "The point is that any search party that is sent of to find Bellatrix has come back with no further clues to her whereabouts, and missing around 4 members. Bellatrix Lestrange is a very dangerous, very sick, very twisted woman. If she has indeed left the Dark Lord's service she is still far from being considered good. I see no point in stopping the Death Eaters from finding her and letting the Dark Lord kill her. It will at least make the streets safer at night," he said finally.

"Severus, need I remind you that there is no one who is not beyond redemption?" Dumbledore asked, innocently enough, but Snape instantly backed down. "She has not come to us asking for help, so we will not hide her from Voldemort," he decreed, ignoring half of the room's sudden twitch. "But we will also not hand her to the Death Eaters on a silver platter. Celdere, I thank you for the initiative you have shown in ordering these attacks, but I must request that they cease, or at the very least lessen in frequency and intensity. For now, they are not roaming the countryside looking to cause us trouble, so there is no need to leave them afraid to step out of doors. We will save that for later, when they are attacking us."

"Very well, Dumbledore, we will let them search, but any more than that and I cannot promise that the Death Eaters will feel safe outside their compound's walls," Celdere granted, threat clear in her voice. Harry suddenly realized how different things were for how his dealings with the Order went now that he was a vampire, now that he was no longer bound to follow Dumbledore's orders. The thing that made Dumbledore and Celdere's relationship different than the relationship between Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley is that Arthur was there in part to be friends. For the vampires, it wasn't important that they be friends, it was important that they be useful, and Celdere and Hermione both had sufficient power that they could choose to disobey a "request" from Dumbledore with little fallout. Dumbledore seemed to realize much the same, and merely sighed.

"Your terms seem fair enough, Celdere," Dumbledore said, and the matter was over.

"When the time comes for those attacks to begin again, Celdere, I hope you will accept any help the Amazons can offer you and your forces. We may not have the speed or strength of vampires, but we're trained fighters, and we don't back away from a fight. I have no doubt that any Amazon could hold their own against any attack, even one from your kind," Hermione said, the offer mostly for show. If she wanted to offer troops, she and Celdere were on good enough terms that she could offer them in private, or simply let Harry know they were at his disposal. With either of those options there would have been a lot less boasting, especially given that boasting was one of the things that Hermione rarely did. That she was doing it here and now said that she wanted Dumbledore and the Order to know that the Amazons were to be just as feared as the vampires, as both allies were formidable entities on their own. In both cases, they were working on an alliance, not a friendship. Alliances were easily broken of the terms were not correct, and neither party felt an obligation to stick with the deal once the benefits ceased to be great enough. Both the vampires and the amazons could, in theory, walk away. The fact that neither would do so while they were so inexorably entwined with the Order was something that only a few people knew. As far as the others knew, if they wanted help, they had to play nice, and make sacrifices.

"Thank you, Aurelia," Celdere said, inclining her head in the Amazon's direction. "I have no doubt that the women you send to aid me will carry their weight and then some in battle, and I assure you that you will be the first to know when the time has come for their assistance."

The Order members exchanged glances again. Not only were their new allies formidable in an of themselves, but they seemed to be more inclined to act with each other, instead of with the Order. This was a dangerous game they were playing.

"You would do well to remember that we are on the same side of this war," Minerva's voice said in his ear, the elder witch having come up behind him so that he would be able to hear her quiet, but warning, hiss. The meeting had only been over for a short amount of time, and the Transfiguration Professor must have excused herself hastily from conversation with nearly everyone in the room in order to make it to his side as quickly as she had. Without much thought he turned to face her, his eyes sweeping the room after finding Hermione's for the briefest instant, the slightly annoyed glance on her face telling him that their Professor had already spoken to the Amazon.

"I was unaware that I had forgotten that fact, Professor," Harry said calmly, not letting the Animagus intimidate him. Minerva's lips pursed themselves into a thin line, eyes flashing a warning at him, which he did not heed. He had been willing to lie down and take whatever she had thrown at him while they were at the castle and he was himself, but in the here and now she was a woman he did not know and he was a Vampire Prince. She was in no position to lecture him on his loyalties and he was not in a position to do anything but correct her, and harshly at that.

"She," McGonagall said with a jerk of her head in Hermione's direction, "said much the same thing," she continued, tone slightly bitter. "I understand you have a role to play here, as do we all, but do try to remember that toying with allies when you're playing the line between us and them as you are is not the wisest move sometimes. And siding with them over us doesn't necessarily inspire the confidence you require for us to be of our full use to you."

"I will side with whomever I happen to agree with at the time, Minerva," Harry said firmly, using her given name to provide the emphasis he wanted, "And at that moment in time the Amazons were the only group making sense. I understand that both of our nations have less scruples over fighting fire with fire than the Order does, and so we're likely going to side with each other more than with the Order, but we're not going to forget whose side of this thing we're on, and we won't necessarily side with each other every time," he reminded her. "And what you're accusing us of is something that you yourself are probably guilty of, Minerva," he added nonchalantly.

"How dare you!" Minerva started, but he cut her off ruthlessly.

"You're really going to try to tell me that you have never sided with Dumbledore simply because of your relationship?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "It counts if you have a disagreement with something he says and don't voice it at the time because you don't want to sew dissention in the ranks."

Minerva's mouth snapped shut abruptly, her nostrils flared in frustration.

"I'd also like to draw your attention to the fact that there are two sides in this war: with Voldemort and against Voldemort. So long as I do not side with the first of those groups, I do not see how you can think that I have forgotten that we are both against Voldemort, Professor," he added neutrally

"Just be careful whom you agree with," she said finally, words sharp and tone terse.

"I am, trust me, Minerva," he said mildly. "I know how fine of a line I'm walking; I can't afford to be anything but careful."

The look she gave him was odd, but she simply swept past him to grab Celdere by the elbow, thankfully while the Queen was only engaged with members of her own retinue or the witch would have caused more than a small scene, and pull her into a muted conference. The sudden lack of supervision was somewhat liberating, even though he was watching himself more closely than Celdere ever would or could, and he couldn't help but wander over towards Hermione, who was mostly stalling so as to make it appear that she was not running out of the meeting.

"You remind me of someone, boy," a gruff voice said to his left. Harry spun around, crouched slightly, but relaxed when he saw the Mad-Eye was staring at him strangely.

"I must say that's one I don't get often," Harry said easily.

Moody gave him an odd look. "Feeling safe around me? You might do better to watch your back around me, vampire. I may look like I'm easy to handle, but I've been fighting dark wizards and creatures longer than you've been undead, I'd wager."

Harry gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. Moody (the real Moody anyway) wouldn't hurt Harry, that much he knew, but then again Moody didn't know that he was talking to Harry. He was going to have to watch his reactions with more people than just Minerva and Snape, and be careful of who he let his guard down around. He considered himself very lucky that Moody had brought it to his attention now, as opposed to later when he could have already exposed himself to countless members of the Order.

"I wouldn't dream of thinking you an unworthy opponent," Harry said smoothly, in a manner that reminded him somewhat of Snape. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it was something to do with playing a double role that made a person so aloof and curt. "Now if you'll excuse me," he added, turning and continuing his way to Hermione.

"Aurelia," he said, greeting her with a smile and a smooth tone, grasping her hand and placing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. She jerked it out of his grasp rather coldly, but he didn't let her harsh glare or the sudden alertness of her retinue bother him one bit, instead favoring the entire group with a languid smirk.

"Vampire," she said with a tone frosty enough to match her gaze. She said nothing more to stimulate the conversation, content to let it idle awkwardly in the frosty silence.

"Looking gorgeous as ever ladies," he added, letting his gaze trail Hermione, or rather Aurelia's, form.

"Obnoxious as ever," she retorted, voice sharp as a whip, forcing his gaze back on her face.

"It's difficult sometimes, I'm glad you appreciate the effort I go through on your behalf," he drawled. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies," he said offhandedly, not giving her chance to respond, and sauntering towards the hallway, though what he was going to do once he got out there was beyond him.

Luckily, he was saved the trouble of having to pretend to look at the décor around him while searching for something to occupy himself with by the somewhat noisy arrival of Tonks, who stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway just a few feet away from where he was pretending to look at the severed head of a House Elf on a plaque on the wall.

"Sorry," she muttered, sounding oddly shy and unsure of herself. Harry could see why people found vampires intimidating, especially those who traveled with Celdere, but it was odd for him to be seeing the Auror in this light without her aware of his observations. "I can be a bit clumsy sometimes," she added, as she righted the umbrella stand that seemed to always be in her way.

"Don't even mention it," Harry said, realizing belatedly that the words were formed around his enlarged canines. He was on edge in this house, among so many people who knew him as Harry, and not as Javier, that each little thing seemed as if it was the world ending. Although if he also chose to walk around with a mouthful of fangs like Celdere, he hardly thought anyone would be able to put the two personas together. "Sorry," he said, trying to get control of himself, subconsciously echoing her earlier statement. "Javier Stark," he said, extending his hand to her as the words flowed from his mouth unimpeded by his incisors.

"Nymphadora Tonks," she said, taking his hand like she was afraid it was going to attack her at any moment. She let go of it the first instant she possibly could, and kept a healthy amount of space between them. "People just call me Tonks."

"Of course, we met when we first arrived," Harry said, looking for enough of a basis to talk to Tonks, who he liked quite a bit, as Javier and coax her back into herself. What made the entire situation so horrible was not only his constant state of paranoia, but also the fact that no one acted like they usually did, out of wariness for vampire-kind. "Celdere mentioned that you were an Auror, is that correct?" he asked politely. Tonks only nodded. "That sounds fascinating. Do you see a lot of action in your position, or are you more of a behind-the-scenes type of worker?"

Thankfully, that was enough to get Tonks enthusiastically talking about some fun raid or another that she had just been on with Kingsley the other day, and even though Harry was only paying it some attention, it was a relief to know that the witch was closer to being herself around him than she had been moments before. Luckily for him, he was paying so little attention to what Tonks was saying that when Remus opened the drawing room door and stepped into the hall, Harry wasn't startled halfway to kingdom come.

"Tonks, there you are. I was worried you had… left," he said, trailing off as he took in the situation in front of him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," he said, shifting awkwardly, and looking as if he was thinking of bolting back inside.

"Not at all," Harry said smoothly, quickly trying to solve whatever issue that was going to come out of Remus thinking whatever he was thinking.

"Of course not, Remus, come here and meet Javier," Tonks said, her face still flushed with the excitement of talking about a passion of hers and of having found a new friend.

"Remus Lupin," Remus said, uncertainly extending his hand toward Harry to shake.

"Javier Stark," Harry returned, shaking the man's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Remus," he said as he withdrew his hand. "Tonks was just telling me about the work she does with the Ministy. It seems like some pretty fun stuff, if you ask me," he added. "Do you work with the Ministry as well?" he enquired innocently, attempting to move the conversation in some direction that wasn't Lupin staring at him in that unreadable way.

"Nowhere close, I'm afraid," Remus said.

"How did you get involved with Dumbledore, then?" Harry asked, trying again.

"Some very close friends of mine and I joined up during the First War, and after they died I stuck around," he replied shortly. Tonks was beginning to catch the werewolf's unease, and the enthusiasm and joy was beginning to fade from her features.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said, unsure of what else to say. Remus had never seemed quite this wary of speaking with strangers before, but perhaps it was the fact that he was a vampire, and an uncertain ally that had been invited into their inner sanctum that made him so cautious. "I'm sure you're doing their memories proud," he added, starting to become uncomfortable himself.

He was saved from having to come up with more questions to stir the conversation along by the arrival of the Amazon delegation, who caused enough commotion in their arrival, even though they paid the trio no attention as they headed for the door, that Harry was able to easily seize onto them for a moment of conversation.

"Aurelia," he called out, spying Hermione's retreating back, covered in her glamour's blonde curls. The Amazon Queen didn't turn around, but she did stop moving. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, desperately wishing that Hermione would stay and find him a way out of this awkward conversation. Silently, he cursed the fact that he had not wanted to stay by Celdere's heels all evening, thinking her conversations boring, and longing to socialize with those Order members he usually liked to talk with.

"The meeting is over, Javier, and I have business to attend to. So yes, we're leaving," she said, turning around as she tied a cloak around her shoulders. "Although I'm surprised you're still here. Don't you vampires have some children to scare, and humans to prey on, or something?" she asked lightly, adjusting the drape of the cloak around her shoulders before looking up at him expectantly for his reply, eyes showing her amusement.

"Not exactly," he started wryly, as the doors to the drawing room were thrown open, crashing into the walls, to admit Celdere and the other three vampires.

"We'll leave such things to the story books and movie industry, Aurelia," Celdere said coolly. "Leaving so soon?" she added, echoing Harry's previous question.

"I'm a busy woman, Celdere, surely you can understand that?" Hermione replied.

"Of course I can, but the night is young yet," Celdere said.

"Perhaps yours is," Hermione allowed. "But ours is not, so I must respectfully withdraw for the evening. Goodnight," she said politely, with a nod to both Harry and Celdere, before continuing her journey out the front door and into Muggle London.

"We're leaving as well, Javier," Celdere informed him the instant the door had closed.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "And yet you're giving Aurelia a difficult time over the same issue?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, well I'm a busy woman and the night may be young but time waits for no one," she snapped, clearly ready to get back in her own element and dealing with her issues, out from under scrutiny.

"Of course not," Harry said with a grin, turning back to Remus and Tonks, who he'd nearly forgotten he was neglecting after the entrance of his mother. "Remus, Tonks, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Perhaps after the next meeting we can continue our conversation?" he asked. Tonks nodded her consent, and when Remus didn't voice a complaint, Harry decided to simply continue. "Again, it was lovely to meet you," he said, shaking Remus' hand and pressing a kiss to the back of Tonk's hand. "Good evening," he concluded with a sigh, gesturing for Celdere to lead the way out of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

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	13. Twisting Perceptions

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 13: Twisted Perceptions

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The look Lucius Malfoy was wearing was the type of look designed to make whoever it was aimed at start running for the hills, and it was a look that Lucius wore often. Unfortunately for Malfoy, the look worked wonders, but was also rendered useless upon two types of people: those too stupid to understand that they were stupid and needed to get out of his way, and those who were too desperate to risk leaving. Rodolphus Lestrange fell into that category.

"I'm sorry, Lestrange, you want me to what?" Lucius queried, one blonde eyebrow raised to emphasize the stupidity of the entire idea.

"Please Lucius I need your help," Rodolphus said instead of repeating himself, practically on his hands and knees begging already, and not willing to debase himself further by repeating something the blonde wizard had heard well enough the first time.

"I'll say you do," Lucius said smugly. "but I'm not letting you send me out in some squad to search the countryside for your wife, and especially since those you've been sending out there haven't been coming back in as great a shape as one might hope. Traipsing around the country is bad enough without adding injury to insult. After all, demeaning tasks like those are what we have the lower-ranked Death Eaters for. The Dark Lord did give you leave to use however many men you thought necessary for a reason, didn't he?" Lucius pointed out smugly.

"The Dark Lord told me I could use whoever I wanted, and that means that the Inner Circle will be going out in two days to look for Bellatrix, Lucius," Rodolphus said angrily. "Clearly pulling from the lower ranks is a mistake, since it appears none of them know how to use a wand anyway. The only people I can trust to not bungle the entire thing up and get themselves killed are those of us in the Inner Circle, and since the Dark Lord did not say I could not assign you to help me, you've been assigned. Unless you'd like me to notify the Dark Lord that you're being most uncooperative in this task?" Rodolphus ended sweetly. He might have been near begging moments before, but he was a Slytherin, so he knew how to manipulate things around to his favor.

"The Dark Lord will not be happy when you've managed to get us all killed, Lestrange," Lucius hissed, the glass of wine in his hand shaking with the force that he was grasping it with.

"So I should tell the Dark Lord that you're too afraid to be in His service anymore?" Rodolphus queried.

There was a pause in which only Lucius' furious breathing could be heard.

"Two days from now you said?" he asked reluctantly, face going from anger to a more pleasant expression in an instant.

"Meet in the usual spot at half past eleven. The entire Inner Circle will be there, so dress to impress," Lestrange added with a sneer aimed at Lucius' obviously expensive Italian shoes. He stood abruptly and grabbed floo powder out of a jar nearby, tossing it into the fire and yelling his destination.

Malfoy watched the flames go from green to red before snarling wordlessly at his fireplace. The wineglass in his hand shattered from his grip.

Two days later and yet another glass was falling victim to the strength of his grip, this time in a deserted room in Riddle Manor, surrounded by all of the inner circle, save Rodolphus. The others were standing scattered around the room, holding meaningless conversations in hushed tones, but Lucius had forgone the niceties and simply conjured a chair for himself after seeing that their "fearless leader" was going to be late, and magically served himself a nice glass of red wine to go with the wait. That had been 10 minutes ago, and he had been there for nearly a half hour total. Peeved as he was at his punctuality, especially considering he had assumed foolishly that Lestrange would have had the courtesy to show up to his own raid on time.

"Stressed, Lucius?" Severus Snape murmured as he swept closer to the chair that Lucius had conjured. Lucius sometimes didn't like to admit it, but he usually appreciated his friend's sense of tact and delicacy. Another could have easily goaded him into a far worse temper, but Severus simply mentioned his temper with the simple delicacy and avoidance of a Slytherin and then things could go on as they were.

"Impatient, more like it," Lucius growled. "Of course not, Severus," he added louder. "I was simply testing the strength of conjured crystal to see if it would hold up to the same stressors as regular crystal. It appears that this particular glass failed the test, although the delicate pattern may have lent a little bit too much delicacy into the structure itself," he continued on as if there was nothing wrong, stopping only once he was more sure that no one else in the room was paying him any attention. Snape made a sympathetic sounding noise in the back of his throat and moved a bit closer, but drew back at the last second as a crack echoed around the chamber and Rodolphus appeared in the center of the room.

"Good, you're all here," he said into the now silent room. Lucius barely suppressed a snarl as the other Death Eater's gaze came to rest on him for a moment. "We shall be portkeying to the beginning of our trail, and moving onward as a unit from there," he explained without so much as a by your leave or apology for his tardiness. "Grab hold," he added curtly when no one moved.

Slowly, but without making any grumbling noise whatsoever, the others in the room all gathered around and extended their arms to touch the object and were transported to a clearing deep in the middle of the forest. Instantly, masks were put on and wands drawn.

"You really think your wife is hiding in a forest?" Lucius couldn't help but ask snidely.

"Just outside this forest are several abandoned houses that we could check. The people I pay to keep an eye on such things said they've seen smoke coming from the chimneys," he added. Lucius grudgingly nodded, and followed Rodolphus as he headed purposefully towards the edge of the clearing, striding though the greenery as if it wasn't there, which he was dearly wishing it was. One by one the others followed, showing the same reluctance to go traipsing about in nature as Lucius had, but obeying orders nonetheless. There was nothing but the sound of rustling underbrush and snapping twigs for several minutes and then the group was breaking free of the forest and moving across a lush carpet of grass, broken only by the sight of several ruins, nearly overtaken by vines and other plants.

Rodolphus motioned for them to fan out and approach the closest mansion (for that's what they were, given their size). As they got closer they could see that someone had been inside it recently, since the bushes had been moved and trimmed to allow for better access to the doors, but not so much that it was clearly evident that the house was occupied. Lucius gripped his wand tighter and took a step forward.

With a twang an arrow stuck itself into the ground right next to his foot. He froze, searching the house for any sign of someone with a weapon and called out an order of the company to halt. Rodolphus turned around to say something snappishly, but there was an odd whine and more arrows fell out of the sky. One or two Death Eaters were hit, but none were fatally injured, and most had managed to erect a shield charm to protect themselves.

"You were saying," Lucius said smugly. Rodolphus just motioned them forward again, holding his wand at the ready for an attack. None came.

_What are they doing?_ Lucius wondered as a blasting hex took care of the front door. Cautiously they entered and fanned out, searching through deserted rooms filled with a thick layer of undisturbed dust and furniture covered in white dustcloths. First floor explored, they regrouped in the entrance hall and started up the stairs.

"Why look, Bella, they did come to rescue you just like you promised," a male voice said. Heads turned and a few spells were shouted out but they all fizzled harmlessly against the wall behind the stranger, who was still standing calmly, hands firmly planted on the wooden railing. "Too bad this is as close as they're going to get to you," he added with a nod to the space behind the Death Eaters.

From the doorway came several bodies and even more jets of spell light directed towards the Death Eaters, joined by more from the balcony. Hastily the Death Eaters split ranks and turned to face each of the threats, sending as many nasty spells as possible at their attackers. It was to no avail, however, as Death Eaters began to fall, some wounded and others dead.

Seeing the numbers dwindle, Lucius began to perspire, which made him all the more panicked. Just as he was about to try to turn tail and run, a figure dashed forward, heedless of the spells coming from his own ranks and those of the Death Eaters, and stabbed the man in the back. Lucius got a small glimpse of a wooden stake before the leader fell forward and out of sight, obscured by the banister he had been leaning on. Almost instantly the spells shifted so that those sent flying from non-Death Eater wands went soaring towards those on their own side, the outnumbered purebloods in the center of the room being left out of the fight all together after one point. Then, as suddenly as the shit occurred, the fighting stopped and Lucius looked around the smoky, dusty room to see that only 5 or so of their opponents were still standing, and they were putting their wands away. All that remained of the others were piles of ashes that dotted the entryway floor.

"Our deepest apologies that we could not intervene on your behalf sooner," one said, as another ran from the top of the stairs into one of the rooms on the second story.

"Who are you?" Rodolphus asked harshly, wand aimed dead center at the man's chest.

"They're friends, husband dearest, not to fret," came Bellatrix's familiar tones, echoing slightly against the empty walls. Moments later she came into view, escorted by the running man and two others. The witch had a crazed glint to her eye that wasn't common even by her standards, her robes were torn in several spots, past the point that her artistic preferences usually ripped them. As she passed a pile of ash on the stairs she kicked and sent it flying, giving a gleeful cackle before continuing her way down the stairs and pulling Rodolphus, completely unexpectedly, into a scorching kiss. Carefully timing it to last past the point where a kiss wasn't awkward but not so long that she wasted too much of her precious freedom and time she released him after the shuffling of feet caught her attention, pulling back from the kiss and reaching out to take his lower lip between her teeth and bite down just short of drawing blood. Just for the sake of causing a scene she pulled his lip, still between her teeth, out towards her a significant amount and let go with a savage grin. Rodolphus' hand went to his lips wonderingly.

"Thank you for rescuing me, my husband," she said huskily, voice carrying through the awkward air that surrounded them. "Friends, colleagues," she amended. "I give you my new recruits," she introduced with a wave of her hand in the general direction of the vampires, for that's who the strangers were. She followed that with a girlish giggle that somehow made the entire situation jarringly weirder. Such things were Bella's specialties.

Since Rodolphus seemed too out of it to notice much for the time being, Lucius took it upon himself to play leader.

"Bella," he began warmly. "It's good to see that a stint in captivity does not diminish your energetic and enthusiastic spirit. This occasion suits you," he added complimenting her, although Bellatrix's usual mix of dark and tortured mixed with a hint of insanity usually made him uneasy. Still, he couldn't deny that any length of time in prison or anywhere else similar only brought out more of her personality, even if it was as long as 14 years in Azkaban. "The Dark Lord will want to hear from you and your new friends but first, I'm curious. Who was it who captured you?" Lucius only asked because he had been faring so badly in the duel he had considered leaving, and that made whoever it was they had just freed Bella from very dangerous people.

"Lucius," Bellatrix purred. "You are as flattering as ever. The men and women you see standing here," Lucius looked again and found that, true to her word, there were a few women in the group of what he had thought was all men. "Are rebels against their ruler, who has set harsh restrictions on them that they would see lifted. I give you, of course, children of the vampire Celdere, and those within her nation that feel sympathetic to our cause. It is they who set up this mutiny so they could set me free," she added.

Lucius remembered a time, during the summer, when vampires had not been on their side. "I seem to recall that they were on a different side of the line last our forces encountered vampires," he drawled, reminding Bella of their failed attempt to bring in Harry Potter.

"But Lucius," Bella cooed with a broad grin that had crazy written all over it, "These are not those vampires. Shall we continue this discussion under the presence of our Lord?" she added impatiently. There were general murmurs of agreement and nodding of heads. Bellatrix accepted her wand from a vampire near her and apparated away with a crack. Several cracks followed it and the manor was empty but for a few piles of ash.

Bella had been lying face down on the floor for pretty much all of the time after she had arrived here, which was irritating since she had thought herself done with that sort of thing forever. I seemed forever was not as long as people thought it was.

"So these vampires managed to kidnap _you_, Bella?" the Dark Lord asked again. It seemed as if he was having a hard time understanding that she, like all the other Death Eaters, could be captured. She neglected to inform him that she had willingly given herself up, and that she had practically kidnapped herself. What no one had realized was that she had never been tied up at all, she had simply been waiting for someone to tell her it was time to come out and play. She had ripped her robes herself.

"Yes, my lord," she said softly, face still pressed into the dirt.

"And why set her free?" Voldemort asked the vampires, who were still standing although they had given him extremely deep bows and curtsies.

"Because she is of more use to us alive and in your hands than dead in Celdere's," the man they had decided should be in charge stated calmly.

"Your assistance in returning her to me is greatly appreciated. Kneel," Voldemort added cruelly, fully expecting to see the vampires before him fall to the ground and grovel at his feet like the rest of his servants.

"I believe you misunderstand our cooperation," the man said with a smirk, no one in the entourage moving, let alone kneeling. "We gave you back Lestrange as a sign of goodwill but we can easily take her back again if the situation calls for it. We shall continue to do similar acts of goodwill as far as we are able, in exchange for your cooperation and proper payment."

"Payment?" Voldemort asked, curiosity tinting his voice.

"Yes," the man said simply. "We stand in a position to offer you quite a lot, and you stand in the position to offer us just as much. What we demand is that we are equals, not servants. What you do with the humans is your business, but we're allies, not slaves, and will be treated as such or you lose our cooperation. Not only that, but when you win this war with our help you will give us a significant seat of power as well as diplomatic immunity. Agreed?" he asked carelessly. The significance behind the tone was clear: the vampires were more than willing to walk away.

"Agreed," Voldemort said with a wide smile after only a moment's hesitation. He only needed to agree for as long as it took him to win the war, and then he would be powerful enough to take on this faction and bring them to heel, or to their graves.

"Good," the other man said with a nod. "Bella knows how to get in touch with us," he said, disappearing on the spot with the slight blur that said he had used a portkey. Seconds later, the rest of the group followed him, leaving Voldemort alone with his Death Eaters.

"Tell me everything, Bella," he ordered. "I want to know every little detail."

And Bella told him many things, some of which were even true.

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By the time Harry had followed Celdere halfway around the block and back to the castle that the Vampire Queen called home, it was so far past curfew that when he did finally take leave of his mother and apparate back onto school grounds not a soul was to be seen. With a sigh of relief, since the tension of the charade and Celdere's uptight behaviors had been beginning to wear on him, Harry transformed into his animagus form and flew right up to his bedroom window, only to find it closed. He could have easily opened it if he had hands, but since he was a bird…

He was less in the mood for this kind of situation than he had thought originally, and his patience was wearing so thin that he decided against flying down to the main doors to walk up all the steps, and instead alighted on the window ledge before transforming back. It was tricky, and he nearly lost his balance once he regained human form, but he was relying on his ability to transform under stress and the long time it would take for him to fall all the way down to the ground from the top of the tower to save him should he slip. Easily, but cautious of making too large of a movement in case he overbalanced, he slipped the window open and stepped inside, closing the window after jumping off of the ledge. He looked up to find quiet brown eyes watching him from behind the partially closed hangings of his bed.

"You couldn't have let me in?" Harry asked, somewhat crossly, as he made his way to his bed and started to undress, dropping first his cloak and then the formal jacket that made the outer layer of his "duBourg finest". The billowy white shirt soon followed, until he was standing there in just the black pants and boots.

"And miss watching you attempt yet another death defying move on the castle roof?" Hermione asked quietly, more mindful than he of his sleeping dormmates. "Where's the fun in that?" she added playfully, standing up and shaking the wrinkles out of her nightgown, before reaching for her dressing gown. Harry's hand on her wrist stopped her.

"And not even a kiss goodnight?" he whined, pulling her closer to him until her body was flush with his. She allowed herself to be pulled closer, a soft smile on her face as she freed her wrist from his grasp and placed her palm flat against his chest, her other arm encircling his neck. "Hey," he said quietly, after a few seconds of silent observation.

"Hey yourself," she responded, rolling her eyes at the lameness of his statement, and at the fact that she had dignified it with a response. Their faces were so close together that she could feel her breath intermingling with his, and with a content sigh she allowed him to pull her the tiniest bit closer so that he could press his lips against hers. Minutes passed, and they finally separated enough that there was space between every part of their bodies.

"This was not what I was expecting to come back to tonight," Harry admitted, with a grin that said he was glad his expectations had been proven wrong.

"Well, I was beginning to think you would never come back at all," Hermione said reproachfully, sitting herself back on the edge of his bed, the hangings casting most of her into shadow. Harry quickly removed his boots before lying down on the bed next to her, feeling most of the tension leave his body as she curled up around him.

"We left not long after you did, actually," Harry said lightly. "Not that you could tell after we walked around half the block before apparating back to the manor. And then the time it takes to get back to the castle from the wards," he added, with a grimace. "I was surprised that Mom didn't insist on a tour of Europe while we were at it."

"Well, we can sightsee another day, dear," Hermione said, trying to hide her smile by burying her face further into his chest.

"So, why exactly are you here, Hermione?" Harry said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "I mean, don't get me wrong I love having you here, I just figured you'd have given me up as a lost cause and gone to bed by now, unless you had a reason," he added hastily, as he realized how the words could have been misinterpreted.

"Good save," she told him, patting him reassuringly on the chest to show him she understood. "I wanted to have the chance to talk to you about this tonight before the entire group is no doubt talking about it in the morning," she said after a slight pause. "I mean, I doubt that they'll post the letters tonight, but I'd be willing to bet that Remus will be sending a letter your way and Arthur will probably send one to Ron and Ginny. My guess is that they arrive with the morning post, and then we'll have to have an opinion about, well, us, that's suitable for the rest of the group. And while we're at it, would should probably have an opinion about how it went from our side of things, don't you think?" she asked, suddenly a tad self-conscious. Hermione would probably never lose her propensity to over-plan for any give scenario.

"I hadn't thought about it, really," Harry told her, surprised to find that he was speaking the truth. "I guess I just thought that I'd read the letter, and gauge reactions to it from the others, and match as best as I can, given that they're favorable, or tolerant, at least."

"Well, I suppose that works just as well," Hermione admitted. "But aren't you the least but curious what those reports will say about our new allies? About us?" she pressed.

"I am," Harry said. "How much time did you spend after the meeting socializing with everyone?" he asked suddenly.

"Not a lot," Hermione admitted. "I think the longest I talked to anyone was you and Minerva, at least after the meeting. I did manage to do some talking to the twins though," she added thoughtfully.

"Speaking of Minerva, how was your conversation with her?" Harry asked dryly.

"She seems to be having a difficult time adjusting to the fact that we're no longer children, and we're a big enough part of something that isn't just the Order of the Pheonix that we have other people to look out for than just the Order. I mean, we're still working towards the same goal, but now we have to do so keeping in mind the goal of our two races. It's been difficult enough for me to get the Amazons to compromise on giving you so much equality, and that's not the only issue. We used to only have to work within our own restrictions, laws, orders, and our moral compasses. And while the vampires and Amazons might not care so much for Wizarding rules and laws, they do care about those of their own culture. We have to act in keeping with Amazonian and vampiric values and priorities, while also adhering to the set of Wizarding values that the members of the Order of the Pheonix hold near and dear. Without it, we lose the support of our nation, and without their trust, we lose our ability to blend our forces into one final offensive. Not to mention, it's a pain in the arse to do the work if they no longer trust us. Or rather, lose whatever trust they have for us," Hermione finished pensively.

"Yes, well, I think I managed to get her to at least see that she is also guilty of the things that she blames us for doing, and that may earn us some sort of reprieve. Although, I'm not beginning to like that Minerva seems to be out to get us and keep us in line. As students, she controls us. But you're a Queen and I'm a Prince, and we are not hers to control anymore," he added, a slight rumble to his voice.

"I think we were both spoiled by each other's easy acceptance for the changed roles we both now play in this war," Hermione said, after a long pause as Harry tried to reign in his temper and frustration. She waited to be sure that she wasn't going to provoke Harry into another fit of frustration and anger before she continued. "I think sometimes that the only reason you took my news so well and I took yours so well was because we were both secretly relieved that we weren't the only one with a secret to hide. There are days where I shudder to think what is going to happen when its time to come clean to everyone, and when Ron and Ginny find out. Minerva doesn't trust us, because now she knows exactly how much we've changed, and she doesn't know the new us like she thought. She'll get over it, or not, but we're doing the right thing here, I think," she said, trying to reassure him.

"I hope so, Hermione," Harry said softly. "I didn't realize how stressful it was going to be going into that meeting and talk with people I've known for years like I'd never met them before," he added slowly.

"Who did you talk to?" Hermione asked, sensing that he had been shaken by something in particular.

"Remus and Tonks mostly, although I had a brief conversation with Moody. He's what got me thinking about how deep the change of character was, really. He started yelling at me for trusting him to readily, because I relaxed when I saw it was just Moody. I mean, the man is crazy, don't get me wrong, but I'd trust him with my life, yanno?" he said moodily. Hermione nodded. "And then I talked with Tonks, who is actually a shy person and didn't instantly start changing her hair color or the shape of her nose, and then Remus came up and made it clear that he didn't trust me to be alone with Tonks, even in a public room, for three seconds. I'd trust them all with my life in a heartbeat because I know they're trustworthy, and that they care deeply for me. But when I'm disguised as Javier, they don't trust me farther than they can throw me, and they're not inclined to help me any more than orders dictate they have to," he added bitterly.

"I got lucky, I think," Hermione said, holding him tightly for a moment before letting go and resuming her thought. "The twins act like themselves regardless of who they're talking to, really. I mean, I'm sure they could have been more obnoxious, but the only real difference between the twins when they're being serious and when they aren't is the amount of havoc they wreak upon the unsuspecting. I didn't have to deal with feeling like I wasn't trusted, because they were the only ones to speak to me, aside from Minerva."

"The only thing I know about how they think of us is that they don't trust us," Harry said, sounding as if admitting it was painful.

"Would you have trusted us, if Sixth Year Harry had been in that room watching a vampire delegation and Amazon delegation come in and say that they were going to take the initiative on the offensive?" Hermione asked, somewhat rhetorically. "Both of our groups worked well to protect each other, and point out the flaws in the Order's way of operation. It makes us seem unbeatable, and it makes us seem as if we're more friends with each other than we are with them. Of course they don't trust us! The vampires are tearing raiding parties to shreds without a thought or a care in the world, and they don't stop before they kill someone. The Order doesn't kill if they can help it. To them, we're a step away from Death Eaters, and they wonder how big of a step that is, and how strong the ties to their side are for us," Hermione finished. "if I didn't know for a fact that the vampires would never side with Voldemort against you, and that the Amazons will all fight to the death to defend the Light side, I wouldn't trust us either. We're barbarians, and the only thing holding us in check is a lose group of ideals and rules," she said with a laugh. "We know we can trust us, but they don't."

"Then I think we're going to have to work even harder at working to influence the D.A. and Ron and Ginny into thinking that they can trust us," Harry concluded. "We need some support in the Order ranks, and the two of us can't be the only ones on our side in that group. So whatever that letter says tomorrow, we're going to have to make sure that it ends up sounding like we're bloody saints."

"Well, we're so used to telling them a bunch of lies by now, that we ought to be able to sell them the truth," Hermione said sleepily, snuggling closer to his side. With a smile, Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head and wandlessly closed the gap in the bed hangings. Nothing more could be done for the night, and their next move was entirely dependent on the contents of those letters.


	14. Awry

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 14: Awry

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"Hey Harry, get a load of this," Ron said around a mouthful of eggs the next morning at breakfast. Without another word, a piece of parchment was slid across the table towards Harry, who took it and leaned a bit towards Hermione so they both could read it. Both inhaled deeply before delving into the contents of the letter.

_Dear Ron and Ginny,_

_Since we did promise you before you left for school to keep you informed (if not involved) with the details of Order meetings, we have some interesting news to share with you. Please pass this on to Harry and Hermione._

_Last night, Dumbledore introduced us to two new powerful allies. Perhaps you've read something in the news, or heard whispers about it around school, about the mass disappearances of Death Eaters. We've found the culprits. I wish I could say that the fact that they are our allies, apparently, makes this fact less alarming than it used to be, but to be perfectly honest, I'm not too sure how much to trust these new allies of ours. Dumbledore has lots of faith in them, but the man has faith in everyone. Surely they can't all be trustworthy, can they?_

_The new allies are the vampires and the Amazons. Both leaders, a vampires named Celdere and an Amazon named Aurelia, were at the meeting last night to meet us, and ended up doing nothing to put us at ease by revealing just how much power they have as an individual group, and revealing just how much they seem to think alike. I have tried to get past the idea that vampires are dark creatures and try to trust them on their merits, but they remind me a bit too much of Professor Snape for my liking, and I've found that I cannot trust their current alignment with the Order. Sure, their actions speak loudly of them being on our side, but there must be reasons for those actions, and I think they are a little too malicious for full trust._

_The Amazons remain a mystery, though the one impression I did get of their delegation is that they are much more likely to align with the vampires instead of the Order when it comes to dealing with a situation. Perhaps it is the fact that both groups have always existed at the fringes of society, if in society at all, that makes their views so similar, but I think they know too much about each other and how to handle each other for us to be safe not really knowing how to handle either delegation. The fact that the vampires have been wandering around the countryside killing Death Eaters didn't seem to faze any of Aurelia's group like it did us, and when Professor McGonagall said something about it they simply said it was "tactically sound". Seems a bit cold-hearted if you ask me_

_Regardless of my feelings on the matter, Dumbledore says they can be trusted, so we will be doing our best to make our relationship work, despite misgivings and unease at the beginning. I hope things are going wonderfully at school for the both of you. The fact that I haven't received an owl from Minerva at this point in the year must be a good sign, right?_

_Remember, we're just an owl away if you need anything dears._

_Love from, Mum._

Hermione and Harry exchanged glances with each other, Harry still holding the letter upright between them. Ron was busy attempting to inhale his food and Ginny was engaged in conversation with Neville, who was sitting to her left, so the pair were free to be as tense and panicky as they wanted without having to worry about the others wondering what was going on. Despite what they had prepared themselves for the night before, seeing it on parchment was a totally different reality. Resigned to their fate of trying to figure out how to pass that letter off as something more complimentary than it was, Harry did a silent countdown and lowered the paper. Somehow, that seemed to get Ron's attention.

"Interesting stuff, right?" he asked, reaching for the juice pitcher and pouring himself a new glass.

"Really interesting," Harry confirmed, trying to look more pensive than anything else. He was saved from having to say anything more by Hermione, who chimed in her own response.

"I'll say," she added, snatching the paper from Harry and pretending to scan over it again. "I thought Amazons were supposed to have died out centuries ago, after the failed invasion of the Isle of Leuke. Even so, I didn't know they were a magical race," she trailed off, as she often did when her thoughts ran away with her. It made the most sense to her to simply mimic her original reaction to the Amazons, and then try to twist that around as if her brain was weighing pros and cons and coming to conclusions. It was something she knew that Ron had come to mostly blindly trust, and once he was on board he would make it so that Ginny was if it came to that.

"I'm not sure I even know who they are," Harry admitted slowly, catching on to what she was doing, at least in part.

"The Amazons were a race of all women, who were known to be reputable warriors. They were supposed to have died out, but from this letter it seems more likely that they went into hiding instead, and waited until they thought it was time to play a hand in global politics again. Of course, knowing Amazons, their version of politics is physical fighting," she deadpanned, wincing internally. Though true, to some extent, it really wasn't helping their case.

"Though if they really are master warriors, like you said they were Hermione, I can't see how a love for fighting and war is a bad trait to have in our allies," Harry pointed out, quick to twist the truth away from the potentially damaging form it could have taken without his clarifying statement. "After all, we are in the middle of a war, regardless of how quiet it's been kept by the ministry, and in order to fight a war you need warriors," he concluded.

"I dunno, Harry," Ron said, taking a huge bite of bacon and then proceeding to spray most of it back over the table. Harry winced slightly, not having to glance sideways to feel the waves of revulsion coming from Hermione. "I mean, from what Mum said, they seem a bit bloodthirsty. The 'might as well kill whoever's handy while we're at it' type," he mumbled, emphasizing the carelessness of being bloodthirsty with a carefree tone while waving a butter knife around.

"It seems to me that what sets the Order apart from the Death Eaters, Ronald, is that the Death Eaters do what they need to do in order to get things done," Hermione started, a tad reproachfully. Harry wasn't sure how much of that had to do with her dislike for Ron's table manners and how much had to do with being called bloodthirsty. "The reason the Order never gets a solid victory is because with every skirmish, Order members end up dead or injured, while Death Eaters are captured or injured, or both. And the instant they go to Azkaban, there's a breakout." Her tone conveyed her exasperation with the continuing sequence of events that she was describing. "Every time we make a dent in their numbers, it gets undone. Meanwhile, every dent they make in ours is permanent. Perhaps what we need to turn things around is a group of people who don't mind to do what needs to be done in order to break the cycle," she concluded.

"But-," Ron started.

"It's not as if they're running around killing small children, Ron," Harry reminded him gently, as he cut the redhead off mid-sentence. "With the crimes they've committed they can't be allowed to run around unchecked and the Order can't do enough to check them by any other means. And are you really objecting to people like the Lestranges being hunted down for once in their lives?" he asked, trying to pretend that it wasn't odd to no longer include Bellatrix in that group.

"Guess not," Ron said slowly, after a long pause. "But Amazons are one thing, they're just girls. I don't envy Mum and Dad for having to deal with the vampires though, creepy little buggers!" he exclaimed vehemently. Harry surprised himself by laughing.

"Fair enough, Ron," he said, placing a calming hand on Hermione's knee to stop the witch from responding to his insult of the entire female race, and the entire people that she was Queen over.

Fifteen minutes later, she was once again bringing the topic around to the Order's new allies. "Maybe you should call a meeting of the DA, Harry," she suggested briskly, as if the conversation had never left. "At the very least, they've been rather quiet this year and given the dubious alliances of our new allies I'd like to brush up a bit on the spells you can use to defend against vampire attacks," she finished, tossing him an angelic look that he had no issues mistaking for the jab that it was.

"You might be right, Hermione," he said, not really having thought about the DA with everything else going on. It was after Christmas, and they hadn't really been having meetings, but he had spent part of the summer thinking about weaknesses and how to get the group as functional for war as possible. While the DA had shown itself to be able to mostly hold its own in battle before, Harry wasn't really sure how that had happened, given that they had spent most of their time doing the same spell against one partner with little to no retaliation or defense in a controlled environment. That sort of thing wasn't going to happen in a real battle, and they really had no experience in thinking for themselves under pressure. "But if we're going to brush up on vampire knowledge, we might as well try to do as much research on Amazons as we can and do our best to prepare for dealing with them as well. Do you think you could help with that while Ron and I go over new strategy plans for the DA?" he asked, managing to keep most of the smirk from his face as he threw himself on his girlfriend's mercy as a research goddess.

She glared at him, then relented. "Alright, I'll see what I can dig up," she said, with a bit less enthusiasm than she'd ever had for a research project ever before.

"Excellent," Harry told her, ignoring her grumpiness about being asked to research something that she didn't need to so that he and Ron could work on training plans. "What do you say that we work on those tonight, mate?" he asked the redhead with a smile. He received a nod and a grunt for his efforts, but he was happy anyway.

"So while you're letting Ron mess up an entire training schedule, you want me to research something that we both know can't be found in the library and that I happen to be the foremost expert in even if it could be researched?" Hermione whined to him as they headed towards their first class of the day.

"If you finish early you can help us out," he told her, trying to make her sentence seem less gruesome. "And its not like he'll be able to mess them up too much when he probably has no ideas of his own, but he is good with strategy, and you're good with Amazons and the library," he reminded her.

"I know," she said, sounding defeated. "How are you this happy?" she asked him crossly as he simply threw his arm around her shoulders with a grin.

"I think this morning went rather well, don't you?" he answered happily.

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When the three of them returned to the common room after dinner, Harry and Ron to start plans for the DA and Hermione to change out of her robes, they found a huge crowd in front of the bulletin board.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, trying to sound authoritative so that he wouldn't have to elbow his way up to the new flyer himself. Harry, however, didn't need to get any closer to see it, his keen eyes easily able to pick out the rudimentary details that were on the poster in the small gap between third and fourth years.

"Hogsmeade weekend, mate," he said with a grin. "Go with me?" he asked, turning with an unnecessary flourish to face his girlfriend.

"We'll see," she replied primly, turning with a smirk to flounce up the stairs.

"On the outs with your lady?" Ron asked, coming up behind him and clapping him on the shoulder. Harry continued to stare at the stairs to the girls' dorms for a moment longer before turning to his best friend.

"I think she'll come around," he said, trying to sound confident. He supposed she was still a bit miffed over the fact that she had to go and make herself scarce for the better part of an evening. Not like it mattered, he thought sourly as she slipped from the common room a few minutes later, dressed to visit with the Amazons and smelling like pine. He was the one who had to actually do some work. With a heavy sigh he turned back to Ron, starting to outline his most basic plans. "I was thinking of-."

It was some time later, and several heated discussions where Ron's wild gesticulations had Harry ducking, when Hermione slipped back into the common room. Her hair was slightly more mussed than it had been when she'd left, and though she no longer smelled like the pine of an Amazon, she smelled like the faintest trace of a campfire and the light woodsy smell of the Forbidden Forrest.

"Have a good run?" he mumbled, his words traveling no farther than her lips as they met in a brief kiss.

"I was a bit lonely for a while," she said, voice lowered carefully so it wouldn't travel. "But I managed to find a few friends before too much time had gone by," she added with a smirk. "How's the planning going, boys?"

"We've got most of the basic groups formed, we're just having a bit of trouble placing a few people. Once we get them placed we can start dividing people up into their teams," Ron explained. Hermione's eyebrows raised as she looked at the parchment Ron was pointing to, carefully noting each of their choices and quickly piecing together the rudimentary elements of the plan they had been debating the entire time she had been gone.

"Team fighting," she stated without preamble. "Don't you think that's a bit of a gamble?" The tone of her voice had gained a slightly reproachful edge as she turned to face Harry, her wand moving in a series of quick flicks to summon parchment and a quill, while transfiguring her clothes into something slightly more suitable.

"Like Harry said this morning," Ron began, oblivious to the fact that Hermione had addressed the question to Harry as the master General, rather than to Ron, "we're in a war. There's not tons of time to be training everyone up in every aspect that's necessary for them, so we decided to let everyone stick to their strengths and try to develop those even stronger, rather than focusing on making everyone well-rounded."

"And what happens if one of their team-mates falls, Ronald?" The question cut violently across the small space between them. Ron visibly froze for a moment at the usage of his full name, but then realized that she was insulting his tactical brilliance and met her eyes.

"Well, that's precisely why we're going to also instigate a one on one dueling competition, to ensure that people don't get too reliant on fighting in groups and also to create an air of competition."

"Ron is right," Harry said, trying to break the intense staring match between his two friends, "we don't have the time necessary to train them so that their skills are perfectly well-rounded. But since we aren't sure exactly how much time we do have, we'll start with honing their strengths and then work on eliminating their weaknesses as time goes on."

Hermione nodded. "They already know some useful spells, but its not always what you know, but rather how you use it," she said, more to herself than to anyone else there.

"So we're agreed?" Ron asked, relief showing visibly on his face as both Hermione and Harry nodded. "Great, then we still need to place these last few people before we can start forming them into groups."

Without much more convincing, the trio started back to the difficult task of placing their peers into groups, their conversation once more digressing into heated argument and much arm-waving.

With the teams decided and the first DA meeting scheduled, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Morgan let themselves take the weekend off and take full advantage of the Hogsmeade weekend at their disposal. Midday found the group seated at a booth in the Three Broomsticks with a large group of mostly DA members, enjoying the conversation, company, and butterbeer.

"Do you hear that?" Harry said, his arm around Hermione's shoulders tensing up noticeably as he tried to make sense of what his sense were telling him. This was, of course, made more difficult by the rather lively conversation being held by Ginny and Ron (one that would likely turn to sibling squabbles if it went too much farther without anyone interjecting). Hermione, of course, couldn't hear whatever it was he'd barely heard, but she still strained her ears for it before admitting defeat. "Morgan?" Harry asked quietly, still attempting to catch more than just the faintest and briefest sound to figure out what had caused his unease. The brief lull in conversation (followed by an indignant shout from Ron as the banter turned into all out fighting) gave him the opportunity to sort out the tavern noises and listen to what was going on outside the doors.

"Fighting." Morgan's word's had slight exasperation in them, though the fighting that could be heard by vampire ears was nothing like the fighting that was slowly unfurling at the table in front of them.

"This can't be good," Hermione muttered.

"No, it can't," Harry agreed, trying to weigh the pros and cons to how this could be handled. He could involve the entire group by bringing it to their attention much like he had Hermione and Morgan, and spend a lot of time trying to keep the fight human and look after his friends, or he could leave those without the recent rigorous battle training here while those with said training handled the problem. For the sake of having a good time, and not getting anyone killed who shouldn't be, he opted for the second. "What weapons do you have on you?" he asked his girlfriend.

"A few knives, why?" she responded worriedly, warm brown eyes shifting up to meet his as she tried to brainstorm a solution.

"You're going to hate me, but I need you to stay here and make sure that Ron stays here with you." He held up his hand to stop her argument before she gave it voice. "He'll listen to you without thinking about it the first few times you divert him, and we need someone who can take charge in case things make it back here. Plus, Death Eaters are already scared stiff of vampires, so we may be able to get some to just turn tail and run."

She glowered at him wordlessly for a moment before relenting. "Fine, but only because we don't have the time to bicker and because you'll owe me so much for this and the false research project that you'll essentially be my slave. I'll babysit, if that's the option," she said, a slight triumphant smirk on her face at the thought of how indebted to her he would be.

"Meet you out front?" Harry said to Morgan, who nodded and stood. Casually, Harry pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead and then followed suit, slipping past the others and hoping to be semi-ignored.

"Hey mate," Ron said, breaking off from his row with his sister (though no one was really paying them any attention anymore, and had instead turned to talking around the bickering duo), "Where you off to?" he finished, looking between Harry and Morgan like there was some huge mystery to figure out.

"Refill," Morgan said, brushing past the last few chairs with nothing more than a soft smile and a toss of her hair, disappearing towards the front of the pub. That left Harry with the—

"Loo," he said easily, spreading his hands wide, palms up, in a gesture of innocence.

"Oh," Ron muttered, the tips of his ears turning a slight red. "Right, well, carry on then," he finished lamely before interesting himself rather intensely with the contents of his glass. With one last glance back at the table, and his somewhat sullen girlfriend, he started to make his way through the crowds towards the back of the pub, sneaking out the back door once he was out of everyone's sight and doubling around to the front.

"Let's go," he said as he approached Morgan, and together they turned and headed down High Street towards the source of the disturbance.

As they got closer, Harry was able to make out the shapes of black robed figures almost lethargically sending spells right and left, sending scared (and oftentimes injured and singed) Hogsmeade patrons up the street towards the school and the Three Broomsticks. A flash of bright red caught his eye, causing a moment of worry about Ron's whereabouts to surface before he recognized Bill jumping into the fray, which until that point hadn't been very two-sided. Seeing the oldest Weasley duck a curse before sending one back, Harry took a step forward, intent on joining him, only to have something hit him square in the side and push him neatly into the nearest ally. Before he could fully process it he was pinned up against the wall, and Morgan's scowl was mere inches away from his face.

"You wanted to fight like a vampire, or you wouldn't have left the Amazon at the pub," she growled. "So change your appearance, or fight like a human," she added for clarification, drawing her wand and changing her features with a few efficient waves. It wasn't anything that would hold up to close inspection, since it was more a change of color than it was of shape or contour, but it was enough to get by in a fight, especially considering that she wasn't likely to be targeted after putting up some resistance to the Death Eaters. With another wave a wooden flat broke apart; Harry finished her thought with another wave, turning the pieces into two basic swords. When he had finished changing his appearance to that of his alias she had both swords in hand and was offering him one, inspecting hers closely. With a slight frown, he did the same. Being transfigured they wouldn't stand up to too much abuse, and they definitely wouldn't be strong enough to stand up to deflecting spellfire, as some blades were able to do, but for his basic needs it was good enough, drawing attention to the physical weapon rather than his magical dueling style. As far as he was concerned, though it would be harder to fight magic with swords, it was worth the extra difficulties if it helped to keep his identity even more secret.

With a silent gesture, Morgan led the way out of the alley to join the battle. Instantly, Harry found himself cursing his apparent laziness, since, as he found himself looking at the battle from the proper point of view for the first time, he realized that he was going to have his work cut out for him. Spells were projectiles, and therefore opponents could engage without having to be physically close. Swords, however, were not projectiles at all, unless thrown, and if you threw your weapon chances were you'd pay for the move three times over in trying to get it back. Unfortunately, though most wizards weren't highly accurate with their casting, especially in the heat of battle, the closer your opponent gets the less easy it is for you to miss, and sadly, in order to do any damage with a sword you have to be at point blank range. It was going to take some careful maneuvering to get close enough to make a strike, but it was going to have to be done somewhat quickly, at least once he was within a certain range, otherwise the entire game would be over. With a groan, he set to work, ducking and dodging spells as the whizzed through the air, deflecting enough of them at other Death Eaters to keep them busy and to keep his opponent's mind more on the returning spells (though the only one Harry had yet to cast was a simple protego) than he was on Harry's advance.

Rather predictably, once a few strong fighters joined in, the people of the village that had been running scared with no real plan other than avoiding the approaching Death Eaters started to join in the fight, tossing a curse or jinx into the fight from a safer distance, feeling emboldened by the success that the small band of fighters (which consisted of about 6 people, grand total, one of them being Bill) was having on the slightly larger numbers of the enemy. Ruthlessly, Harry chopped down another Death Eater, hopefully this time for good. He was vaguely convinced that his reluctance to land a killing blow was creating a less than helpful effect as they regained consciousness and re-entered the fight, or spent a bit of time healing their companions for the same exact purpose. As it was, Harry was fairly sure that he had taken out the same guy he was no facing at least twice already, and moved onto the third, the flat of his blade coming into contact with the back of the man's head with a sickening mix between a slap and a thud. Turning, he scanned the area for another target, somewhat satisfied to see that there were more people standing for the resistance than for the Death Eaters, and that those still trying to force their way through to the rest of the village looked as if they wouldn't be standing for much longer. Another turn to scan the remaining area showed him the glimpse of red hair as it's owner was knocked off his feet, the slicing curse finding the eldest Weasley an easy target when flat on his back in the middle of the street. With a yell, he ran towards the offending wizard, cutting him down before he really even knew he was being attacked, and rushing to Bill's side, checking on the injuries.

"Ron!"

The sound barely registered in his head as he scanned the wounds littering Bill's torso, noting that they each seemed to be shallow, and that the curse itself seemed to be quite weak before looking up, only to see another redhead a few yards away, the distinctive chestnut curls of his girlfriend only a few steps behind him.

"Get away from my brother you bloodsucker!" Ron yelled, stopping so abruptly that Hermione nearly ran right into him, a jet of orange light bursting from his wand. It harmlessly hit the dirt several feet to the left of where Harry knelt over Bill thanks to Hermione's quick hands, which had knocked the Gryffindor's wand away at the last second, causing the curse to go astray. Dimly, Harry realized what this must have looked like to Ron; his brother bleeding on the ground while a vampire knelt over him, bloody sword in hand. There would be no way to tell whose blood was whose, and Ron, hothead that he was, would have jumped to the conclusion that the "dark" creature had been harming, not helping his brother.

"Ron, stop it!" Hermione yelled, stepping directly in front of her friend's wand to prevent another spell from being fired.

"Why should I?" Ron asked heatedly. "Look at what he did to Bill, and then tell me that I'm not justified in doing whatever I will to him." Ron's voice was more chilled than Harry had ever heard it, and he wasn't liking the way things were going. Unable to think of anything better to do, not wanting to blow his cover if he could escape, but wanting to try and sort things out with his friend before it came to any of the other options, Harry was forced to remain as he was, and hope that Hermione could talk the redhead out of his attack while preparing to dodge a spell headed in his direction. He didn't think Ron would be above stunning Hermione if he perceived her as truly standing in his way. Harry was at this point counting it a miracle that it was only Ron, and not the entire rest of the table, that had managed to escape Hermione's watch at the Three Broomsticks.

"He didn't hurt your brother, Ronald." Hermione's voice was calm and assertive, but Harry could see how tense she was just from her rigid posture and the spread of her feet.

"How do you know?"

"He wouldn't hurt Bill, Ron. He would do anything to save him." She was trying to keep his secret still, Harry knew, but making the assertions she was without the proof to back it up was costing her dearly. Ron only listened to Hermione when it suited him most, really. If it came to it, Harry would apparate, even if it would ruin his chances at getting Ron on their side if Javier and the youngest male Weasley were ever to cross paths on Order business.

"Move or I will make you move, Hermione. You don't know anything about him!" Ron's wand raised upwards the slightest bit, coming to bear on Hermione instead of keeping his aim through her, as he had before. Harry estimated that she had about five seconds to get out of the way. 5…4…3…2…

"Yes I do, because that's Harry, Ron!" she yelled, unable to hold it in any longer. Her posture relaxed in shock as it registered what she had just said, and Ron seized the moment to push her aside, looking slightly relieved at not having to curse her out of his way.

"That looks nothing like him."

In for a penny, in for a pound, Hermione thought before waving her wand in a crisp movement. "Finite."

There was silence for a moment as Harry knew his features were being revealed, he watched Ron's face as it betrayed it's shock. Their entire argument had taken place quickly, and in that moment of silence between the trio the rest of the street fell silent as the last attacker fell.

"Harry?" Ron's voice, at normal volume, carried easily over the crowd just before noise would have resumed in celebration and victory. Within moments the victory cheers had turned to sharp orders about getting the DMLE on the scene, and any civilian casualties to St. Mungo's.

With a loud crack, Harry apparated away, not wanting to be anywhere near the other man when the shock wore off and the other emotions were made known.

"Fuck!" Hermione's cursing was the only sound coming from her direction, Ron still having been silent. Knowing that if Harry had run from the scene that he was going to be rather difficult to track down, if it was going to be possible at all, she rounded on the lanky redhead next to her, hating him for putting her in that position even as she hated herself for having said anything in the first place. "If you're quite satisfied that Harry won't be back to finish the job, you can go and take Bill to St. Mungo's. I'll handle the Headmaster and McGonagall," she said acidly, knowing his was to be the easier task. Ron wouldn't be spending the next several minutes talking to someone from the DMLE, nor the half hour spent explaining events to Dumbledore and her Head of House, nor the hours spent searching the castle and forest looking for him, but she would be, and she wasn't looking forward to any of it one bit.

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	15. The End of an Era

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 15: The End of an Era

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It was very much later that evening when Hermione found herself outside the portrait to Minerva's private chambers, with nowhere else in her mind left for her to turn.

"Hermione?" The gentle lilt of the Scottish professor's voice filled the hallway, making Hermione feel, as always, like things were going to be fine somehow. There was something about the Gryffindor Head of House that had always seemed to have all the answers to everything for the young Gryffindor, and since the professor had yet to lead her wrong, she always found herself seeking the other animagus out whenever she needed help. And if she ever needed help, now was it.

Minerva, for her part, was only a few steps away from being incredibly worried at finding the other woman on her doorstep at such an hour. This partly had something to do with Hermione's sense of propriety; Hermione had never once shown up at her door un-announced so late in the evening even though Minerva would have welcomed her no differently if she had. What had Minerva so worried was that they had already spoken once that afternoon, when Hermione had wearily marched into the Headmaster's office and announced that Harry had taken off to God knew where and that young Ronald had somehow managed to muck everything up between the trio. Bill Weasley was in St. Mungo's still, though it was just for observation. Apparently he had been well cared for by the young vampire who had only managed to hover over him for a moment, and he hadn't sustained any serious injuries in the actual fighting.

"I can't-," the Amazon began, running a hand through her already voluminous hair, mussing it even further. With a sudden smile, she changed tacts. "My apologies, Professor," she said instead of finishing her first sentence. "It's late and I'm sure you're busy and I should be going," she said, turning to go.

Minerva had no idea what was going on, but Hermione coming to her and beginning a conversation with the phrase 'I can't' even if she never finished the sentence, didn't sit well with her. "Nonsense," she said sharply, the tone intended to catch the other woman mid-step with an order from someone she was long accustomed to obeying before the younger Gryffindor could think twice about it. It was perhaps a bit harsh, because Hermione flinched somewhat, but she did do as Minerva had intended. "Please come in," Minerva said, stepping aside so that Hermione could step past her into the sitting room.

Instantly, Hermione tried to turn around, making Minerva glad that she hadn't preceded the girl into the room. "I knew I was interrupting," Hermione said, tense under the hand that Minerva placed on her shoulder briefly to make sure that there would be no more running. "Good evening professor," she said to Dumbledore, who was peering at her over his half moon spectacles from the other side of the chess board.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said cordially, as if he could always be found playing chess in his Deputy's quarters late at night. Belatedly, Hermione remembered that he probably could.

"You're interrupting nothing but Albus' winning streak, my dear, and while he may mind I most certainly won't begrudge whatever the thing that interrupts it is," Minerva said dryly, sitting on the couch rather than back in what was obviously the chair she had recently vacated. With a gesture at the pieces, Minerva had convinced her king to throw it's crown across the board to the white king, who bowed graciously before slaughtering a black pawn nearby for no reason other than that he could, as near as Hermione could tell. "Now, what is it you can't do?"

Hermione found herself sitting opposite her professor simply because it distracted her mind from focusing on the blush that crossed her face. She was Hermione Granger, Amazon Queen, and the brightest witch of her age, and there was nothing that she couldn't do. Or so she told herself, but of course that wasn't what she had told Minerva. "I can't find Harry," she admitted quietly, so much so that she was surprised Minerva even heard it.

"That boy needs to learn to stop running quite so far," she commented wryly. "I'm not even going to ask you if you've looked everywhere, because I'm sure you wouldn't be here if you hadn't already done that," Minerva added, her look turning pensive.

"I've looked in the Tower, across the grounds, the owlry, I've even checked the Ma—," Hermione stopped herself before she gave away yet another really important secret that day. However, she had been building up steam in that sentence, and there was no way that both Professors hadn't noticed how she had ended it. Desperately, her face the same color as the couches in the Gryffindor common room, she feigned a cough and tried to semi-start over. "I even checked with the matron," she finished, knowing by the sound of the words falling from her lips that she had fooled no one.

Minerva raised her brow, but made no comment on the cover-up. "You've had a rough day, Hermione," was all she said instead. "Why don't you stay here for a while, call Milksy for some tea maybe, and try to gather your wits before returning to your common room. Perhaps you could give Albus someone else to slaughter over a game of chess," she suggested, but her tone told the younger witch that it was much less suggestion than it sounded at first listen. Grimly, she nodded her assent to staying a while. "Excellent," Minerva said, as if there had been a chance of Hermione having said no. "Milksy," she called to thin air.

"Professors," said the small house elf that popped into existence next to her.

"Tea for three and some biscuits as well, please," Minerva said, smiling at the elf as she popped away, returning with the asked for tea. "Thank you, Milksy," she said, picking up the pot to pour a cup, handing it to Hermione first before pouring another and setting it across from Albus. Hermione didn't miss the fact that the Headmaster's tea added it's own sugar and crème before it made it all the way to the man in question, nor the fond smile that crossed Minerva's lips as she sent it his way. Their tea poured, Minerva stood.

"Aren't you going to have some?" Hermione asked, startled as the Professor's hat came sailing from the back of a chair across the room. When the answer seemed relatively obvious the cup in her hand went instantly back to the table and she started to rise.

"Perhaps a bit later," Minerva said, settling the hat at it's familiar jaunty angle and checking her appearance in a nearby mirror. "I just remembered I do have a bit of business to do tonight after all," she explained, grabbing her wand off of the end table. "I'll be back in a bit," the elder witch assured her before she left the room, "but I'm afraid that its nearly curfew and that Mr. Potter seems to be out close to after hours. I'd prefer that we not lose any more house points this week, as Professor Snape always gets rather smug at our staff meetings when Slytherin is ahead of Gryffindor in the house runnings, so I'm merely going to retrieve him before he does any damage to the total." Over Hermione's head, Minerva and Albus exchanged a glance, but before Hermione could place exactly what it was the Transfiguration Professor was giving her a tight-lipped smile and striding from the room.

The truth was, Minerva realized as she headed instinctively for the Entrance Hall, she had no idea where to look other than the places that Hermione had already tried. Though there was some amount of ambiguity to where she had looked, and Minerva figured that it was possible that Harry had just made it nearly impossible for his girlfriend to not have missed his presence. With a sigh, she turned around on the spot and headed the other direction, changing shape mid-way down the corridor and making her way up to the Owlry as a cat.

Which was how Minerva found herself, sitting on the Owlry floor, staring up at the mass of wings and beaks above her. It was dark in the room, and if Hermione had come in here anywhere near dusk chances were she hadn't been able to see anything either. With a sigh, she transformed back to herself and waved her wand, sending the lights higher and brighter and causing more than several owls to take wing and hoot at her irritably. She winced in apology, but really, finding Harry was more important than keeping the Owlry pitch black at night for the owl's sakes. And as she looked up, she realized that she had found him, though he was quite determinedly staying at the very highest point in the room and ignoring her completely, even though she tried to call him down to her.

"You're lucky your girlfriend loves you, Potter, because I don't do this for just anyone," she muttered angrily before turning back to a tabby with the faintest pop. If Harry wasn't going to come down to her then she was going to have to go up there to him and hope that he listened. If he didn't, the plan B was just to stun him silly and drag him back, bird or no, before he could protest. However, plan B wasn't going to earn her any favors with the boy in question, and that in turn was going to end up badly for Hermione. And so she was stuck with plan A, which consisted into climbing all the way up to him as a cat.

Ruefully, she realized that there was no way this mission could be considered the quick jaunt she had told Hermione it was, but a solid hour later, with the owls doing everything the could to impede her progress, she made it to her targeted spot next to him on the rafter. The golden eagle barely ruffled his feathers to show that he noticed she had made it all the way up, but Minerva just sat there. Men didn't always like to talk, and if she had waited that long then she could wait for some more time. Besides, she needed to catch her breath, because that stunt wasn't something she was going to be trying again any time soon.

"You're a rather persistent cat," Harry offered when he had turned back into him self, leaning casually against an upright support and not seeming to care about how high above the ground he was now that he no longer had wings. Minerva nervously looked at the beam she was on and turned back to her human self, desperately trying (and succeeding) to end up so that she was seated carefully (if a tad primly) with her arm around another upright support.

"And you're too stubborn for your own good," Minerva said dryly, doing her best not to move at all just in case the beam, which had seemed perfectly wide as a cat, ended up being too narrow to support any movement. "It took me the better part of an hour to get up here, and I wasn't the first who tried to get through to you either."

"I know," Harry said softly, surprising Minerva who would have pegged his response for something a little more stubborn. "I just needed some space."

"Why is it that men never think of telling people that they need space in order to get it, rather than just taking it and not saying 3 words to people who have no idea where and why they've gone?" his head of house demanded. "I heard about what happened with Mr. Weasley, and if you needed space then no one would have stood in your way. But all she sees is that she gave you some time alone and then she couldn't find you, and she wonders if you're mad at her or if you've run away forever and she ends up knocking on my door at this hour of the night to tell me that she can't do something."

"I didn't mean for that to happen," the young Gryffindor said, running his hand through his hair. "I just couldn't go back to the Tower knowing Ron would be there and I couldn't face his reaction." Minerva wisely didn't say anything, not really having anything to say to that. "He wanted to kill me, Minerva."

"Well, I doubt he feels that way now that he knows who you are," she said briskly. "Harry, look at the facts. Your life has put you in places that have made things worse for your friendship with Mr. Weasley before and it survived just fine. He will come around, and maybe he already has. It's not easy to stomach," she admitted, "but he'll come to the conclusion at some point, just like I did, that you're still you. And the new you saved his brother's life today. He may not like it, and he may rant and rave and throw punches and curses your way, but those are the facts, and he'll see that."

Harry was silent for a long moment, staring at some fixed point behind her as if hoping that it would give him the answers. "I know that," he said eventually, surprising himself with the answer. He had always worried about the response the Weasleys would have, but deep down (even though he hadn't admitted it to himself) he had known that Ron would come around, just like he always did. "I just wish sometimes that I didn't have to wait for him to come around all the time," he added, finishing his last thoughts out loud.

"It must be exhausting," Minerva said in response, treading carefully so that she could be as fair as possible to all parties, "to always be the one waiting for him to come around. But even so, he always does. And don't forget that he's always there when it counts, and when you truly need him that he's always right behind you."

"This entire charade is exhausting," Harry said, bitterness lightly lacing his tone. "There are very few moments when I can be both Harry Potter and the vampire prince at the same time. It's getting harder to remember that they're the same person at all," he told her. "Even harder still when people I've known for years insist on treating the vampire prince as someone to be feared and looked down on, while placing the savior on a pedestal. I'm not entirely sure that it wouldn't be worth it to come clean to the entire Order and deal with the fall-out now, instead of waiting." He gave a small, mirthless laugh. "People will find out eventually; it's only a matter of time before something like today happens and another person is forcibly brought into the loop."

Minerva looked up at him, her neck starting to ache from having been craned at such an awkward angle for so long. "Help me up," she told him, momentarily ignoring what he had just said. She couldn't feel effective when she was seated and facing away from him while he was standing and looking right at her. She also was discovering that even though she had managed to get herself up there she was much more sure of her ability to maneuver without falling to her death (or at least injury) as a cat than she was as a human, and as afraid enough of falling that she was going to need his help to get standing.

Her comment, though little more than a necessary utterance to get her from point a to point b, appeared to him as if she were abandoning the topic. With another mirthless laugh, he extended a hand to her, spreading his legs to brace himself better as he pulled the older woman to her feet. Luckily, with his strength the effort was easily made on his part, though it took some undignified scrambling on her part to get her feet untangled from each other, and soon she was standing, shaking the folds from her robes. Her clothing straightened, her eyes turned to his with a quiet intensity, one green-eyed gaze clashing with another.

"Whether you always remember it or not, Harry, there are people in this world who would follow you to the ends of the earth and back without hesitation. There are others who only need a little convincing before they, too, would follow you wherever you wished. And there are others that might be a bit more stubborn. This secret is _yours_ to tell, and no one else's. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks about the political repercussions of coming clean to the Order. This is not their secret to tell. If it helps _you_ to get everything out as much in the open as is possible, then I wouldn't stop you for the world, and I will personally hex anyone who thinks differently about it," she assured him.

A blank silence met her words, and then Harry smiled a quick, grateful, smile at her and that was all that needed to be said. "Now how on earth are those of us without wings supposed to get down?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically. She could always get down the same way she'd gotten up, or use several cushioning charms, or even call for Fawkes if she really needed to. She just wished there was a better way.

"Transform, and let me handle the rest," Harry answered, voice confident and assured. She held his gaze for a moment longer, trying to seek out the plan he had for their descent in his eyes, and then effortlessly was back in the shape of a cat for the third time that evening.

With a smile, Harry conjured some sort of carrier looking device (that Minerva personally thought was a mix between a death trap, a burlap sack, and a cardboard box) and then gestured her onto it before transforming himself. As the golden eagle shifted closer to her to grab the straps attached to the death trap in a large talon, Minerva couldn't help but crouch slightly further into the beam below her and the cloth-like material of the death trap around her. She had realized that golden eagles were large when she had dropped Harry off with Hermione that night, since her arm hadn't been able to support his weight for long enough to make her carrying him on her shoulder not so ridiculous a notion that she was unwilling to do it. The reality of the matter was that he had barely fit on her shoulder (though being a woman her shoulders were somewhat small) and had completely restricted her ability to turn her head to one side. Now that she was a cat, however, she was realizing, as she hadn't when she had first gotten up there (pre-occupied as she had been with the fact that she hadn't killed herself trying to get up to that height), that he was easily 3 or 4 times bigger than she was, and that she was dwarfed with him next to her even without his wings spread. The hair on her back rose on end as she crouched there; he cocked his head at her, spread his wings, and then flapped them hard enough to raise the death trap up and off of the beam. There was a sickening drop during which Minerva tried not to think about falling to the ground and being crushed not only by the weight of gravity and inertia but also by the 20 pound bird falling on top of her (also propelled by the forces of gravity and inertia), and then the pair was soaring through one of the tall windows and out into the open air towards the Quidditch pitch. They made it nearly to the goal posts before he banked gently, gliding back across the grounds to cover the long distance with a grace that a human on a broom would have been hard pressed to duplicate, coming to land just next to the steps that lead to the great doors that guarded the entrance to the castle.

Gratefully noticing, and then ignoring, that Harry had set the death trap down a bit before his own talons touched the ground so as not to crush her, she bounded free of the thing, coming even with him in time to give him a playful bump with her shoulder as she passed him, turning back to her human shape as she started up the steps. She stopped as she reached the top, turning back to wait for him as he soundlessly returned to his human form and banished the death trap back into the thin air it had been before he had conjured it into existence. (It was phrases like those that made her doubt how wise it was to trust magic in the way that she did, since surely one couldn't rely on something's reliable presence when it had literally come from thin air and would go right back to being thin air again once it was given half the chance.) Wordlessly he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed up the stairs, following her inside and through the hallways, paying little attention to where she was leading him. He was hardly surprised when she gave the portrait to her rooms the password and stepped inside, leaving him with the choice to follow. Another inhale later, and he was stepping into her sitting room to see Hermione playing (and losing) to Dumbledore.

"I know you were all worried," Minerva said, banishing her cloak and hat to their respective places within the room, "but so far tonight I have seen nothing that would cause Professor Snape to be unduly smug with the house points total. I can only hope that I have had as much success in pairing the two of you together in chess and that his winning streak has ended," she continued, faint laughter adding a pleasant lilt to her voice.

She was all but ignored by Hermione after the first few words, as the other woman leapt to her feet, taking a couple of hasty steps towards him like she was going to launch herself at him with a cry of "Harry!" but stopping dead several feet away as she remembered that he had been avoiding her all evening.

"Er, hi," Harry said, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck and not quite meeting her eyes.

"I'm sorry about earlier," they both blurted out after a moment of silence where neither spoke, and Minerva's enquiries about the chess game went unanswered. Not that it mattered if anyone did, since once glance at the board showed her how few white pieces there were left in comparison to black and, given the sight, Minerva wasn't even deluded enough to think for a moment that Hermione was winning simply because Albus had always used the white pieces in their games and she was accustomed to equating his loss with a surplus of black. Upon realizing that they had both said the same thing, Hermione gave a self-conscious giggle that she stopped nervously almost as soon as she realized she had given it.

"We should probably go somewhere and talk," Harry said eventually, becoming aware that they were in Minerva's living room and that it was quite late. Hermione nodded her assent and moved towards Harry, passing close enough to touch him but managing to confine her movement towards herself so that it seemed like a huge space loomed between them, even though Harry's hand came up to shepherd her towards the door out of habit. With a slight wince, he turned to the two Professors, who were looking at his patiently over their spectacles.

"Thank you for the game, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, having turned back to face the room at the same time Harry did from her current position two steps behind her boyfriend. "And thank you, Minerva, for helping keep him out of trouble. Sometimes it can be quite the effort," she said, keeping her tone light and playful even as her eyes betrayed her seriousness. She barely took in their gracious nods before she turned and was walking out the door, trusting that if Harry wanted to talk that he would catch up or find himself forever sleeping on the couch.

Knowing that he only had so much time to catch up to her, Harry kept his words brief. "Thank you," he said, glancing first to the Headmaster and then to the Deputy, holding her gaze nearly twice as long as he had held eye-contact with Dumbledore to make sure that he imparted as much of his sincerity and gratitude into the words as was possible given his time limit. Then, without another word he spun on his heel and followed the Amazon out the door, following her through the corridors much like he had followed Minerva not so long ago until he found himself in an empty classroom with a wand pointed at his face.

There was a tense pause, during which Harry swallowed hard and thought that perhaps his girlfriend liked threatening displays a bit too much, and then with an efficient wave of her wand she had closed and locked the door and was silencing the room. "You're upset with me," was all she said when she had finished, her wand held loosely at her side though not put totally away.

Harry couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief as the spells she had cast went right past him and he realized that she hadn't been aiming at him in the first place, but rather, at the door behind him. However, his relief was short lived as he came to realize that what she thought of the situation wasn't what he did, and that his sulking had probably only cemented her beliefs.

"I'm not," he asserted quietly, striving to keep his frustration with him self and the entire situation out of their conversation. "I'm upset with the situation, upset with the lying and the sneaking around and the hiding, upset with myself, but I am not upset with you.

There was a brief pause. "I didn't know what else to do to get him to back off," she admitted, continuing as if he had confirmed what she had said. "I could only stand in his way for so long, and I couldn't imagine the repercussions of having him thinking that a vampire had attacked Bill." Another pause. "It would have ruined us," she said fiercely, almost as if she needed to convince herself more than she did him.

Harry had to admit that she was right on all counts. "It would have," he agreed. "They view us with too much fear and doubt to be able to afford any incident where that view might be reinforced or even worsened." Loudly, he exhaled, running a hand through his already messy hair as he moved to sit on a desk. "And like it or not, the Weasleys make up too large a portion of the Order in terms of sheer numbers to allow one to think that a vampire had attacked another. Molly is outspoken, and she can be quite persuasive," he added. "No, you did the right thing by telling him. His shock gave me enough time to get out of there before it turned into a bigger scene than it already was, and now no one thinks anyone but a Death Eater is responsible for Bill's injuries," he told her.

"But now Ron knows," Hermione pointed out, her tone weary as she, too, sat on a desk. "And who knows how quiet he's keeping the matter, nor how quickly things will spread. And the fact that you've been AWOL all day isn't going to help things." He knew she was doing her best not to yell at him for it, but the faintest hint of her disapproval and hurt crept in anyway. Unfortunately, both of them knew that they didn't have the luxury of being able to address their issues as a couple when there were political and strategic loose ends to be worried about. They had said their initial "I'm sorry"s and they would have to hold for long enough to get work issues out of the way. Hermione suddenly knew how he felt with the entire situation, as the entire brunt of this secret fell on her. Because of this, they were political allies first, a strategically minded team second, and friends and romantically involved last.

Harry nodded, more to himself than to her. "I know. The question is how this entire thing can be patched up the easiest and the fastest, with the least damage."

Hermione snorted. "How many options can there be?" she asked him, somewhat rhetorically, bringing her wand once again to the ready, aiming this time for the chalkboard. "If you care about your friendship, you're going to have to talk to Ron eventually," she said, as her tidy cursive wrote a line across the board to form the words 'talk to Ron'. "But with your absence he's had time to do a lot of talking, which means that if you talk to Ron you're going to need to also silence everyone he's talked to since then." This time, an arrow pointing to the right appeared, followed by 'track down loose ends'. "And he's had enough time to have talked to people that are going to be hard to convince, difficult to talk to, and who will have had plenty of time and sway to discuss things with other people before you can get to them. It's got the potential to be a hopeless mess," she said frankly.

"And the only option is to make it so that people will listen to someone else on the subject, instead of anything negative Ron might have had to say," Harry said, flicking his wand and making a diagram appear on the board, depicting a net falling on top of a few stick figures. The phrase 'attack the issue from the top' wrote itself next to the picture in his messy handwriting.

There was silence as they both stared at the board, letting their lack of possibilities sink in. "Unless you have resources I'm not aware of, it looks like we'll be holding an Order meeting," Hermione said, breaking the silence.

"Which means there's a lot of things to do before the morning," Harry said hollowly, knowing that there was really only the one option. Off to the side, the words 'Talk to Celdere. Talk to Dumbledore. Invite Order. Assist in making sure there are no scheduling conflicts' appeared on the board in list form.

"Those invites are going to have to go out first thing if we want everyone to be able to have the most time to reschedule any previous plans," Hermione said, "which means that Dumbledore is going to need to be notified first thing in the morning because we've disturbed them enough for one night," she added, sounding vaguely annoyed. "And I think we should make a list of people who will need to be at that meeting. If you really mean to come clean to everyone then you're going to need everyone with any influence in that group, and anyone who can attest to the fact that you're not a dark creature. You're sure that you want to tell the entire Order that you're a vampire?" she asked, just to make sure.

"I am," he responded, sounding like he was speaking after having the wind knocked out of him. "I am." This time his voice was stronger. "It's more trouble than it's worth to be sneaking around behind everyone's backs, trying to manipulate everyone into thinking we're not evil and pretend that I'm not Harry when I am. I'm exhausted of not being able to speak up when they'll trust what I have to say and not being trusted when I'm able to speak up. It's enough to keep this from Voldemort and the press, but we don't have the leverage we need if we're forced to work from the outside fringes."

Briskly, Hermione pushed herself off the desk and onto the floor. "Then I am going to suggest you break the news to Celdere while I handle the Amazons. When you're done, you can go and get a bottle of firewhiskey and another of champagne and I'll write a note to Dumbledore and make sure that he can't miss it in the morning. We'll meet back here when we're done," she said, sounding somewhat similar to the talking planner that she had once gotten him and Ron as gifts.

He nodded, not saying anything until she went to hop to it immediately. "Hermione, are you sure you want to do this? Because I can only do so much without you coming clean as well, and your secrets aren't mine to tell, nor mine to force you to tell," he said, grabbing her by the upper arm as she brushed past him. She stopped dead, frozen in place at his side just far enough past him that he couldn't see her face even though he was turned to look in her direction.

"We're both tired of hiding, Harry, and you know that without this I'll still be working from the fringes of this group. No one trusts us either, even if they don't think we're dark creatures," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "We're both in this together, step for step. We have to be," she said firmly.

"I won't force you to stay in step with me, Hermione. If you're sure, then let's do this. If you're not, there are other options," he said resolutely.

"I'll see you in a few hours," she said, pulling free and walking to the door, spells falling from her lips to dispel first the locking charm and then the eavesdropping spell.

"Hermione," he called, turning around to watch as she stopped in the doorway. "Why the alcohol?"

She turned slowly. "Because after we're done talking to Celdere and the Amazons we're going to need something to unwind. Because if we really mean to do this we're going to need a bit more courage than I know I possess. And because you can't have a celebration without champagne," she replied levelly.

"What are we celebrating?" he asked, still curious.

"We do this, and nothing will be the same," she said, her voice oddly detached. "We do this and life as we know it is over," she warned him.

"Yes, it will be," he said, not liking the sound of it any more than she did, but knowing that it was necessary.

"Then we're celebrating the end of an era. Better to go out with a bang than with a whimper," she said, flashing him a small smile before turning around. The doorway framed her for a moment more before her shape shrank and morphed into that of a leopard. She paused to scent the air, giving him enough time to erase the board as he hopped off the desk, and then she was gone, leaving him to follow.

Leopard and vampire walked side by side through the corridors, taking care that they met with no one on their way to the front doors, and once outside, the great oak doors closed behind them, they cast a glance to each other before they headed their separate ways. With a leap, the giant cat had cleared all the steps and was streaking towards the forest as Harry followed suit, jumping off the steps and morphing mid leap so that he could take wing towards the main gates and, from there, apparate.

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**A/N:** Okay, as some of you pointed out in a few reviews, last week alerts went out saying that there was a new chapter, only the last chapter was one you'd already read. I'd like to apologize for the false alarm, since this was my fault and not 's. As I mentioned a while ago (if you've been reading my notes, even if they are few and far between) I had been doing some work on the parts of the story that had already been written and even re-uploaded some of the chapters in hopes of making the story flow better and that the information that many of you asked for would be more prominently displayed (I do read every single review, and while I may not answer each one with a note from me, I do try and answer them somehow). What ended up happening was that I realized that my chapters were a bit short and I felt bad that you all have to wait so long for a new chapter only to get one as short as mine are. So I started to condense the chapters together on my computer because I realized that there were several chapters that could have been combined with the one before or after it, and implemented a word count goal for each chapter (including the ones that I was making by combining older material). As of chapter 14 (the last one) every new chapter I post will be at least 5,000 words (making them, as a general rule, twice as large as before) and I have combined the old chapters into new chapters that follow roughly the same guideline (not all the old chapters are over 5,000 words, but they are all over 4,000). Of course, then I couldn't keep straight what was what, since I was posting chapters numbering in the 20's and the files on my computer had barely reached the teens, so I decided to totally overhaul the story and replace the old content with the new content. What I didn't realize was that deleting all the chapters and then creating new ones, while the easiest way to replace all the content and keep everything straight, also sent out an alert saying I had updated the story, and ended up confusing a few of you. Whoops, my bad! So here was a new (6,000 word) chapter as an apology, and this note as an explanation. Hope you guys enjoy!


	16. Out of the Frying Pan

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 16: Out of the Frying Pan

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Celdere looked at him, her eyes slightly narrowed, for so long that Harry was sorely tempted to start squirming under the lengthy inspection. He had walked in and stated his intentions, cited his reasons (which he personally thought were rather well thought out given how easily Hermione had gotten on board), and even though he had expected some resistance, some questioning, and some slight complaining, he had not been expecting to be looked at like some novel new puzzle that Celdere had yet to quite figure out.

"You're sure then?" she asked, tone neutral. Harry couldn't help but relax back into something resembling calm confidence again at the question. Not only was he sure and more than willing to spend the rest of the night explaining this to her, but those were the first words she had said in long enough to make him nervous, and her speech signaled a return to expected, if not familiar, turf.

"I am," he replied without hesitation. "This is the only truly feasible way to solve this problem, and we can only accomplish so much if we're continually pushed to the fringes of this group. The Order and the vampires are allies because of me, but no one who doesn't know my secret trusts us. Our hands are tied, and this kills several birds with one stone," he reasoned, trying to keep the slight cajoling out of his tone.

"It may set us free, but it also comes with it's own brand of ties," Celdere cautioned. "They may trust us if they know who and what you are, but they will not be happy with their savior acting in a way they perceive as dark. Either you will be forced to cater to their whims more than you are now, or you will be fighting against the current the entire time," she pointed out. "Not to mention that there have been spies in the Order before, and we're trying to keep this out of the hands of the Death Eaters."

"I'm tired of living half a lie," he told her stoutly. "Half of me they think is a savage, and the other half of me is barely allowed to use scissors in case I accidentally hurt myself. Coming clean may restrict me, but it also frees me. I'd rather be somewhere in the middle, fully capable of making my own decisions than live out such polar opposites." There was nothing else to say at that point.

"And Hermione?" Celdere questioned. "She is in the same position as you are, and if you come clean to escape the mistrust that comes with being on the fringes of this group, you leave her on the fringes as well. With two powerful nations on the fringes, we could accomplish something with each other if not with the Order. Without us, they can accomplish nothing. You might as well give them rope with which to hang themselves; if you come clean and she doesn't they're too secretive a group to ever be trusted."

"She and I have talked already, and she's discussing it with Ainia as we speak," Harry said shortly. "Like it or not, as you pointed out, we're bound together in this. Step for step, wherever our feet may lead us. It won't be fun, it won't be easy, but it will be a relief for both of us nonetheless."

"And in the spirit of coming clean, just how much are we sharing with the class?" the vampire queen asked with a wry smile. Harry groaned as he remembered the other secret that came with the vampire territory: Bellatrix. Perhaps it was better to leave that issue for later, when he was sure that he had the position to actually do something to save the woman. The fact that he had to even worry about saving the woman who had killed his godfather was slightly painful, but it was what he had promised to do.

"I don't think they can handle that much at once," he decided with a frown. "Besides, if I tell them too much bad stuff about me they might just decide that being a vampire has messed with my head and that once I off Voldemort I'll just be taking his place." He knew it was a stretch, but he had learned early on in his years at Hogwarts never to underestimate people's ability to come up with the most absurd ways in which he could possibly become the newest dark power of the Wizarding world. It wouldn't take too much prompting before his resume included opening the Chamber of Secrets, setting loose the monster inside, becoming a vampire, killing Voldemort, stealing the Dark Lord's nastiest servant for his new right-hand woman, and taking over the world with his bloodthirsty legion of vampires.

Celdere nodded. "Very well, then. Bella will remain a secret until it can be kept no longer," she ruled. "And if you're truly set on doing this, then it shall be done. I can't stop you from telling your own secrets, I can only remind you that doing so affects not only you, but many others. If you're prepared to take responsibility for affecting their lives, then there is nothing to stop you."

"Then I will make sure that someone notifies you as soon as possible with the time of the meeting," he said confidently, ignoring the words that she was using to try and scare him out of doing what he wanted. Celdere was a master of manipulation, and even though she was saying she was okay with what he wanted, she was also emphasizing the weight of his decision. The old Harry, even the new Harry, would have hesitated and insecurity would have done the rest if he had had the slightest of doubts. Even now, the weight of the words hit him like a ton of bricks, but he knew that even if he was unsure of how things would work out that there was no other choice. "As of right now, only Hermione and I know of it's existence, but the Headmaster will be brought into the loop as soon as he wakes, and hopefully the rest of the Order will follow soon after. We're pushing for a meeting no later than the end of the day tomorrow, with both vampires and amazons in attendance as well as the bare minimum of Order members. Hopefully all of the powerhouses of the group, as well as anyone who will speak in my favor." He stopped, realizing the work that still had to be done that night when he returned to the castle.

"Dumbledore. Minerva," Celdere began, quickly puzzling through it in her head with the speed of someone who had already spent a fair amount of time contemplating the power structure of the Order of the Pheonix. "Molly, Arthur, the twins. Bill, provided the healers will let him leave St. Mungo's. Ron, if you can swing it. From the sound of it, Ginny could be useful if we need someone fully human to slap some sense into Ron, but that means that she'll have to be convinced or she won't be of any help. I can see no harm in her being there, but she's a wild card as far as loyalties lie." Harry nodded. The youngest Weasley never had an issue with telling Ron he was being a prat, and usually Ron listened to what she had to say when it was in regards to a larger, more important issue. The only other person like that was Hermione, and given that she'd be on Harry's side by way of default, Harry doubted that the other Gryffindor would be inclined to listen to her. "Lupin ought to come around, and he's got a good enough head on his shoulders that he should help you do some convincing. Moody will be a trick to convince, but if you can get him on your side I doubt anyone will be able to come up with a reason substantial enough to hold out themselves. His legendary paranoia comes in handy, if you can get it to work with you," she mused, almost more to herself than to Harry. "Luckily no one who isn't already on your side really trusts or likes Snape enough to listen to anything he has to say for very long. That just leaves the actual aurors as your last wild cards," she finished, referring to Kingsley and Tonks. "No one else has enough sway to matter much," she said philosophically, as if it were simply black and white, a quick mission of getting in and getting out again, and like nothing could go wrong.

"That's what it looks like," Harry agreed carefully, wary of buying into her words. "But we also have to get all of those people to drop whatever they're doing tomorrow and show up or it changes the entire game," he said.

"Yes, it would," Celdere said, sounding like she was still wrapped up in her thoughts. "You're going to be rather busy tomorrow trying to get everyone together."

"Don't I know it," he muttered, not relishing the idea. And he hadn't yet factored in Hermione's champagne and firewhiskey, which he would no doubt be sharing. Tomorrow was going to be rough indeed.

"Enjoy it, then, and let me know when I need to be at Grimmauld Place. You can get there on your own, I presume?" she asked, looking at him in a way which told him that it wasn't really a question, and rather reminded him of Professor McGonagall.

"You'll be the first to know," he told her, ignoring the question that wasn't a question. "Until then," he said, giving her a small smile, trying to maintain the confidence that he had kept through the entire meeting, as he turned on his heel and strode through the room. Normally he would have left from the throne room, but he had another errand to run, and he thought that he would be able to find what he needed in the keep's kitchen, rather than having to make a second journey to find it. He was proven right after a small foray into the depths of the kitchen and it was only ten minutes later that he was apparating back to the castle gates, feeling rather like an alcoholic with a bottle in each hand.

If he had felt like an alcoholic wandering around the keep's kitchen with a bottle in each hand, it was nothing compared to the feeling he had when he realized that, because of the alcohol, he wasn't going to be able to transform and would have to walk the entire way back to the castle as he was. With a sigh, he started walking, wondering how he had ever resigned himself to the fact that the walk from the gates to the castle was a normal one. Sneaking through the castle took on an edge now that there was something more he could be caught for besides violating curfew, but it was late enough that most of the students who stayed out of bed and courted fate had already gone to bed so there were no professors to be seen.

"Your talk with Celdere had to have gone better than the double-fisting suggests," Hermione drawled as he walked into the empty classroom they had claimed for themselves that night. Briefly, he wondered why they were sitting in a classroom, still in a position to be caught by Filch or Peeves (though he doubted that either would happen) when they could be sitting up in the relative safety of the Room of Requirement. Shrugging the idea off, he glowered at her half-heartedly, placing the bottles on a desk as he went past.

"You try transporting two bottles and see if you can do it without double-fisting them," he said, slightly embarrassed, surprised that she even knew the slang term for nursing two drinks at once. "Besides, it's your alcohol," he muttered under his breath. Her smirk told him that she had heard him anyway, and with a small hum of satisfaction she turned back to the board.

"I haven't been back for too long, but I've got a letter to Dumbledore ready to go. I waited to send it because I thought it'd be a good idea to include a list of people most necessary to have at the meeting tomorrow, so I sat down and started to think of names," she said, motioning to the short list that was on the board.

"I have it mostly worked out already," Harry told her, coming closer to see what she had written. The Amazon was using her hands, rather than magic, to do the writing so the words were much smaller than before, given that the list was more for her benefit than an entire classroom's and she was standing mere feet away from the board. "Or rather, Celdere managed to spit one out in a matter of moments." Shaking his head, he added, "She seems to have spent a fair amount of time figuring out who makes the Order tick."

With a grin at him, Harry found the chalk being placed in his hand by his girlfriend. "Then the chalk is yours," she told him, taking a step back to sit on a nearby desk. Harry took a moment to remember the conversation, and then started writing, discussing each name as it went on the board. When he reached the end, he put the chalk down and took a step back to look at the list he had created.

"So that leaves us with 12, maybe 14, people we need to make sure get to that meeting," Hermione said, counting up a quick tally in her head. "With the aurors in the mix, this may be pretty difficult."

"Well, if Dumbledore agrees to this meeting at all, then he and Minerva are taken care of," he said, flicking his hand to make a slash go through both names. "And with the exception to Snape, who probably isn't all that important anyway, that takes care of things on Hogwarts' end. Dumbledore can get Ron and Ginny out of the castle easily, so they're taken care of as well," he pointed out. Two more lines made their way through two more names.

"Molly has no real reason not to come, and Arthur is usually home in time for dinner. Provided that the meeting falls after regular work hours, they ought to be able to make it, and they'll want to be there since this will be about the attack on Bill," Hermione said, prompting Harry to draw two more lines on the board. "Bill being there depends on Mungos, but with his injuries he should only be staying overnight. The twins will have closed up the shop by then, so they should be free." Two more lines. "Moody and Remus are unknown, as are Kingsley and Tonks."

"That means that at most we have to worry about getting six people to this meeting, and I think I'm right in believing that only three of them have the potential to be issues, rather than simply being unknown," Harry said, looking at what remained of the list. "Are we missing anyone else?" he asked her.

"I can't think of anyone else, no," she said softly. Harry simply nodded in response, causing her to hop off the desk and walk across the room to a table where an open ink bottle already sat next to a sheet of parchment and a quill. For a few moments the only sound was the scratching of her quill as she copied the list down and then her voice broke the silence. "Dobby." Harry opened his mouth to question her, or perhaps tease her, but the pop of Dobby's arrival kept him from saying whatever he had planned.

"Harry Potter's Hermy," the house elf said, surprise evident in his voice. "and Mister Harry Potter Sir. What can Dobby be doing for you?" he questioned, looking around with puzzlement at having been summoned into an empty classroom by students so far after curfew.

"Hey Dobby," Harry said with a weak smile, realizing how long it had been since he had seen the eccentric elf and his many mismatched articles of clothing.

"We were wondering if you could do us a favor, Dobby," Hermione said, folding the parchment in half and holding it up so the elf could see it. "I need this to get to Professor Dumbledore first thing in the morning, and I didn't want to risk disturbing him so late at night so I was hoping that you could make sure that this ends up somewhere where Dumbledore will see it right away. It's really important," she added, biting her lip.

Dobby nodded. "Dobby can be making sure that Professor Dumbly is getting it, Missus Hermy," he said slowly, as though hoping they would tell him more than that.

Hermione handed over the letter, thanking him profusely, but not offering the answers he sought. "Thanks Dobby, you're a lifesaver," Harry told him, hoping that it would keep the house elf from wondering anything further, because he wasn't ready to tell him and Dobby wasn't going to ask so the situation could only get more awkward. As he had hoped, Dobby beamed at him before vanishing on the spot, presumably to deliver the letter.

"And that's the only thing we have left to worry about tonight," Hermione said, capping the ink-bottle.

"Aside from getting amazingly drunk, if the alcohol you had me bring back is any indication," Harry teased with a small smile. "Just what were you thinking we were going to do for the rest of the night?"

Hermione looked up at him as if this had only just occurred to her. "Nothing having to do with business," she said decisively after a short pause that told Harry she had thought up that phrase on the spot. "Something entirely normal," she added softly as the implications sank in. Not only were both of them constantly living a double life, the double life that somewhat thankfully was going to come to an end tomorrow night, but both couldn't remember the last time they had really done something that hadn't involved the war. Night after night of training, of studying, of creeping around the castle after hours spread out as far back as the beginning of the year.

"Then might I suggest we make this room soundproof?" Harry suggested, refocusing his attention on how to pass the time while they were getting drunk. The one thing he knew was that, whatever else happened within the room, that they couldn't afford discovery and that drunk people weren't necessarily known for their ability to control the volume of their voices. "Although maybe that should wait, since I think we're going to need some more things first," he added pensively.

"Like?" her tone was curious, but it also had an edge to it, as if he was insulting her ability to plan out a night whose purpose was as simple as getting drunk.

"Music, for one, and more drinks," Harry told her bluntly. "We'll go mad if we're the only ones to talk to, and while champagne might be able to be drunk on its own, you're not going to like vodka with no chasers." A slight blush appeared on her face, and that told him that he was on the right track.

"Lavender has a Wizarding wireless," she offered quietly. "Well, I can't get that without a bit of trouble, so why don't you go get that and I'll grab some cups and a pitcher of something that goes good with vodka?" he suggested. With a nod she waved her wand, erasing the board, before moving the bottles to a dark corner of the room with a quick gesture.

Predictably, it took much less time for Hermione to sneak the wireless out of the girl's dorms than it did for Harry to return from the kitchens after having managed to free himself from the clutches of the eager-to-please house elves and make his way, levitating cups and a pitcher of water and some cranberry juice in front of him and keeping both eyes and ears alert for any signs of Peeves or Filch. One soundproofing charm later and drinks were being poured, toasts being made, and then the wireless was turned on and the desks and chairs moved aside to make an impromptu dance floor.

"We should probably get to bed," Harry mumbled, after having looked at his watch for the full thirty seconds it took his drunken brain to figure out what time it displayed.

"Probably," Hermione agreed, looking up at him through eyes that wouldn't quite focus. It had taken surprisingly little to get her drunk, and after several shots a mostly sober Harry had managed to get her to tell him that she'd never really drank before that. That had been before the pair has polished off the bottle of champagne and she had started clinging to him as they danced in a rather endearing way that Harry suspected was more to keep her balance than it really was about being close to him. She let go of him to take a few steps on unsteady legs towards the table where she had placed her wand and scooped it up without too much difficulty, holding it firmly more out of habit than anything else. Despite her clearly unsteady aim, her spell did manage to transfigure a desk into a large mattress, and at the sight of it both Gryffindors moved closer, Harry turning off the wireless as he passed it.

When they were both settled comfortably in bed, Harry's arms wrapped tightly against his girlfriend, Hermione waved her wand once more, plunging them into darkness. With a clatter, the wand dropped to the floor, and both fell asleep.

When they awoke, neither had been asleep for very long and breakfast was already in full swing. Looking at themselves, both realized that they were going to need some serious spell-work to make it seem as if they hadn't spent the night in a classroom getting drunk, and it wasn't until they had both managed to get rid of their disheveled appearances that they even thought of heading downstairs. Ron, of course, was already eating, but he was seated not in their normal spot but farther down the table with the rest of their year-mates. Ignoring the slight pang of remorse that filled him at the sight, Harry and Hermione sat down where they usually did only to have Morgan join them moments later.

"Ron's upset," she stated without preamble, eyeing Hermione with interest as the Amazon helped herself to some pumpkin juice with unusual clumsiness. Harry eyed the juice that had been sloshed onto the table and then shifted his gaze to the reddening of her cheeks and came to the conclusion that he had let her drink a little too much last night if she was still drunk. Harry's metabolism had been sped up faster than usual when he had become a vampire, so he was way closer to sober than she was, and was actually expecting his hangover to hit within the next two hours. Hermione would be lucky if she regained her coordination by then, he silently pointed out.

"It's not me he's mad at," Hermione said, noticing them both look at her with obvious questions in their eyes, though she was doing her best to ignore the juice incident. Embarrassment made her voice shrill as she added, ever fair, "although I can't deny I may have had a hand in it."

"Speaking of," Harry interrupted before Morgan could ask any more questions, "Where did you go yesterday? I lost track of you and then I ended up leaving pretty abruptly and I didn't see you anywhere nearby," he added, glossing over the more important details for the meantime.

"I managed to hack my way several shops down the street, and then started apparating people to where they needed to go, be it St. Mungo's or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she said with a graceful shrug. Hermione gaped at her. "What?" she asked, a touch defensive.

"I just can't imagine being in a fight and not wanting to stay as close to Harry as possible," the brunette replied, somewhat evasively, refusing to meet Morgan's eyes.

"He can handle himself," Morgan said, a touch forcefully. "So I let the battle take me where it willed, instead of fighting the tide and crowding him like a fledgling." Her tone conveyed the derision she had for the idea that she would have gone into battle next to Harry and refused to leave his side when she could be more useful in a different area. Harry's hand on Hermione's knee stopped her reply.

"Well, you were probably in transit when things got interesting," he said blandly. "Since Ron's elder brother Bill was injured and he found me in a rather compromising position," he added, voice pitched so that it wouldn't carry farther than the three of them.

"So he knows then?" Morgan deduced, letting out a huge whoosh of air when Harry confirmed her theory with a short nod. "Then what are you planning on doing to keep this quiet?" she demanded. Harry understood her concern; after all, if Ron knew about Harry he might have done the rest of the math and realized that she was also a vampire, and the redhead had never been one to keep things quiet.

"The story can't just be squashed," Hermione snapped, "there's too many other things that prevent it from being that easy."

"The only way to keep this quiet is to control who hears it and how the news gets broken to them," Harry continued as Morgan opened her mouth. "Control the spin, and this may be a blessing in disguise," he said resolutely.

"So there will be a meeting tonight then?" Morgan said after a minute of quiet rumination. "And how do I figure into this?" she asked when Harry's nod answered her first question.

"I don't know," Harry said honestly, glancing down the table to where Ron was resolutely turned to talk to the people on his far side. "I'd like to keep you out of it if at all possible, but if it comes up it does no good to lie. Dumbledore and Minerva already know about you and Bryce, and really, that's all that matters since you're both in their domain. And the more extensive the network seems, the more likely it is that people will start to ask questions that get rather close to a fairly undesirable topic," he added, unwilling to mention Bella in anything other than that cryptic sentence. No one was close enough to hear them, and that meant that they could cautiously give voice to their secrets, but there were some that were too dangerous to be whispered in a place as insecure as the Great Hall.

For a moment the only sound was that of liquid being poured into a goblet as Hermione refilled her drink, albeit with much more caution than before. It was noticeable how much effort it had taken her to pour that glass without issues, but at the very least she hadn't spilled it. "Fine," Morgan said, standing. "I'll stay in the castle and entertain myself," she said, resentment pouring from the words. Harry understood her feelings, and knew that in her position he would feel the same, but there were some things that the other vampire just couldn't accompany him for.

"Morgan," Harry began, unsure of what he could say to make her feel better, but knowing that he had to try nonetheless. It didn't matter what he would have come up with, though, because she was through the doors to the Great Hall with something just past human quickness, far enough out of his reach that he would have had to run to catch up to her. The notion seemed good for their friendship, but foolish considering that he had nothing to say to make it better, and was likely to just piss her off more. From farther down the table, Ron briefly caught his eyes, watching the entire thing with an expression that made it clear that Harry deserved for all of his friends to hate his guts. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and tried to figure out how to approach the redhead.

"She can see the logic just as easily as you can, Harry," Hermione said, her hand coming to rest on his forearm. "She just doesn't like what it tells her to do."

"Yeah," Harry said softly. "I guess I'll give her some space and let her see that for herself; today is going to be difficult enough as it is without having to worry about how and when to approach Ron and what to do about Morgan," he added sourly.

"Difficult days often make for late nights, don't you agree Mr. Potter?" came Dumbedore's voice from behind the pair. Turning, they found him smiling genially down at them, eyes twinkling over his spectacles.

"I'm hoping not, Professor, since I'm not sure I can handle another," he admitted, smiling slightly as the Headmaster's cheer made things seem a little bit better.

"We'll see how it goes then," Dumbledore conceded. "Now, I'm afraid a matter has come up of some importance and it requires that I speak to both of you in my office as soon as breakfast is done."

Hermione was drinking the last few mouthfuls of her drink, and Harry found that he wasn't really hungry anymore, despite not having had much to eat to begin with. His eyes slid to the right again to study the group of 7th year Gryffindors with Ron at their center and realized that the day was going to be worse than he thought. It was one thing to have the redhead mad at him, but quite another to be in the same room as him and be, for all intents and purposes, ignored. "I'm finished anyway," Harry said, pushing his plate away. "Hermione?"

"Uhm, alright," Hermione said, sounding like she was more comfortable with staying in the Great Hall than he was. If Dumbledore noticed the hesitation in her voice, he pretended not to, beaming down at both of them as if Christmas had come early. Harry wondered if that was how he looked when people gave him books, or is that was the pure bliss Dumbledore had implied only came to him at Christmas with a new pair of socks.

"Excellent, then we can walk there together," the Headmaster said jovially. "After you, Miss Granger," he said as the pair stood, waving them both ahead of him towards the doors that lead out of the Great Hall.

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This time, Celdere's retinue let themselves into the house, stepping without a care through the foyer and into the drawing room where the large table was already set up for the meeting. It was early, absurdly early for the vampires who valued making an entrance, but Harry had wanted to be able to watch every member before the meeting started, and for that he was going to need to actually arrive before the meeting started. He wanted to be seated at the head of the table, looking like he belonged there, when Dumbledore and Minerva flooed into Grimmauld Place with Ginny and Ron sandwiched between them. However, as early as they were, they weren't the first people to arrive.

For one long moment, Harry's steps faltered as his eyes met with the clear blue eyes that Hermione wore when under her disguise. Reflected back at him he saw what he knew was in his own, now brown, gaze: relief at seeing the other, fear, and determination. Recalling himself, he took another step forward to follow the vampire queen along the edge of the table towards their seats. It was perhaps a gesture so subtle that no one but the vampires themselves would even notice it, but they had reversed their seating positions so that now it was Harry who sat at the head of the table, with Celdere at his right hand, seated slightly behind him, leaving the other three vampires to fill in as they wished. This meeting, unlike the last one, was not about the vampires so much as it was about Harry, and the vampires were there more for support than they were for actually controlling the meeting. Whereas last time, Dumbledore had led the meeting only to have it sidetracked by the vampire queen and kept that way by the Amazons seated in the middle of the table, this time, Harry and Hermione were leading the meeting, in an effort to seamlessly team up in a way that implied the threat of verbal and physical support from the other member of their retinue but did not actually result in Celdere or Ainia having to step in to smooth things over beyond the occasional comment. Tonight, the pair of them would need to stand mostly on their own.

Silence reigned in the room as the vampires settled into their seats, all of them training their senses on the doors for the next members to arrive. Thankfully, they were saved having to make some sort of conversation when more people arrived as everyone seemed to pile into the room at once as if they had all come from the same place one right after the other. None of the Order members felt comfortable enough with the newcomers to really talk to them, though Tonks did give Harry a small smile when she entered the room and caught sight of him. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Remus openly growled at the sight of the now-brunette vampire prince. Harry did his best to ignore the gesture from the skeptical werewolf, choosing instead to focus on the very real thought that in mere moments the older man's attitude would be going through a serious adjustment.

The meeting had been set to start at 10pm, which had been the soonest that Dumbledore could manage to get everyone together with such short notice. Neither Harry nor Hermione minded, both used to late nights even after their night of no sleep and their morning and afternoon of being hungover, and it was their hope that at some point the late hour would necessitate that the meeting come to a close earlier than it perhaps might have finished had time and sleep not been an issue. However, ten o'clock had been about ten minutes ago, and both Dumbledore and Minerva were still absent, as were Ron and Ginny. Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances as even the Order members seemed to catch on to what time it was, and how late the Headmaster and his Deputy actually were. No one but the Amazons and vampires knew what the meeting was about, though speculation had already begun to circulate about what Dumbledore had so urgently needed to discuss with them that he was willing to call a meeting so late at night. As it was, no one would trust either group to lead the meeting without Dumbledore's say-so, and they were the only ones capable of doing so in his absence, effectively tying their hands. Right as Harry opened his mouth to ask where the missing pair were, the door to the drawing room opened to admit a very terse looking Minerva McGonagall, followed closely by a flushed-looking Ginny Weasley and a nearly purple-in-the-face Ron Weasley. Clearly, the hold up had not been simply a matter of Hogwarts business, but rather an issue to do with the duo's ability to get the younger Weasleys to cooperate. Following them at a sedate pace, a serene Dumbledore closed the doors firmly shut behind the group and then took his seat. Minerva followed suit after glaring both of her pupils into also taking a seated position, but their reluctant compliance and the authority both Professors held over both the students and the entire Order weren't significant enough to keep Molly Weasley from rising.

"Albus, what are they doing here?" she asked, her voice at a normal volume but with a hint of displeasure that her children knew meant worse things were in store than it seemed on the surface.

"They are here because they are involved, Molly," he replied calmly. "Perhaps not with the entire Order, and every meeting after this one, but with this meeting in particular they have a right to be here."

"They are too young to be here, Albus, and I forbid them to be here. Take them back to Hogwarts, where they belong, so we can start this meeting."

"I will not," Dumbledore answered her demand, holding up a hand to forestall any comments from her before he had finished. With an audible snap, her mouth closed, biting back what probably would have been the first words out of her mouth above normal speaking volume. "They are more a part of this situation than you are, Molly, and I will not have them kept from this meeting. I will let you argue with them regarding their involvement in future meetings, but so long as they consent to be present for this meeting, I must insist that they be allowed to remain." Harry and Hermione exchanged yet another worried glance. It was their fault, after all, that the two youngest Weasleys had been brought along, and though Dumbledore made a good, although subtle, point by mentioning that neither would have been brought along if they had not consented (and despite how angry Ron still looked at the fact that he was there, Harry didn't doubt for a minute that he had not consented) they hadn't factored in how angry Molly Weasley would be at seeing them there. To everyone in the know, it made perfect sense why they were necessary. To everyone outside of it, Molly's anger was more than justified.

"I am their _mother!_" the Weasley matriarch fumed, her words rising to a shout at the end of the statement. "And I don't care if you insist or not, but you do not have the right to take them from school grounds without parental consent!" Both of her children remained silent, out of common sense and years of experience with their mother's temper, but Ron had taken the armrests of his chair in a grip so hard that his knuckles were white, and Ginny's face had gone so red that it closely resembled the shade her brother had worn when they had first walked in.

"Now, Molly, let's try and be reasonable here," Minerva began hotly, coming to her husband's defense.

"If I may make a suggestion," Celdere interrupted, and the entire room froze. Somehow, without shouting, standing, or doing anything other than speaking in a calm, normal tone of voice, the sheer presence the vampire queen had at her command managed to do what Minerva had started to attempt and make it seem effortless. The words, if voiced by anyone else, would have seemed like a question, but coming from her lips they were anything but a request for permission to speak. "I personally see no harm in having them here, if Dumbledore deems it necessary," she continued once she was sure everyone was riveted on her words, nodding her head slightly in the Headmaster's direction, "but obviously you do, despite his insistence that you do not know all the facts. Why not let us begin the meeting, learn the fascinating, I'm sure, reason why he feels it necessary for your children to be here, and once everything is out on the table you can decide whether or not to send them home?" she proposed. The room was still mostly frozen in mid-action, just as they had been when Celdere had first opened her mouth, but now the tableau was bordering on comical. The exception seemed to be Minerva, who was glaring daggers at the raven-haired queen across the table from her, a fact that Harry noted with an inward sigh and mental note. It seemed that Minerva had managed to undergo an amazing transformation regarding vampires insomuch as it came to the fact that Harry himself was one, but that didn't mean that she and any other vampire got along any better than they had before. He had been amazed that she could have gone from something worse than Snape to a version of McGonagall that was as close to being a mother as the older witch could get in such a short time span, and had assumed that his secret had somehow helped the woman through years worth of fear and anger at the entire vampire race, but it seemed that when it came to Minerva and Celdere, at the very least, sparks were still destined to fly.

The rest of the room watched with baited breath as Molly's head turned slowly away from Celdere to fix the Headmaster with an unreadable stare. Silently, Dumbledore nodded his agreement and she turned to her two youngest children. "Fine, you may stay," she allowed, albeit grudgingly, "But if I say you are to leave it is to be done without complaint, understood?" she asked, tone dangerous. They both nodded, and Molly sank back down into her chair as if she had never left it and was merely waiting patiently for the meeting to begin just like everyone else.

"I bring this emergency meeting of the Order of the Pheonix to order," Dumbledore said when he was sure that there were to be no more interruptions. "As you know, there was a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade yesterday." Mutterings followed his words. "Bill Weasley was injured in the fight, but without help from our new allies," he went on, nodding to Celdere's end of the table, "he would have been hopelessly outnumbered, and probably injured more seriously than he was. As it is, he will be spending another night in St. Mungo's, since it appears that his wounds are quite stubborn. It was also during that fight that some interesting information came to light that I have called you all together to share with you. Harry?" he asked, clearly deferring his control of the meeting to the vampire prince and in the process confusing nearly everyone in the room.

"Are you mad, Dumbledore?" Lupin asked after a cursory scan of the room just to make sure that he hadn't missed something. "Harry isn't even here."

"Yes he is," Ron said before Harry or Dumbledore could say anything. Much like Celdere's words from earlier, those three words stopped the entire room dead in it's tracks. Silence reigned as Lupin took another look around, actually scenting the air in hopes that his werewolf senses would help him discover where Harry was hiding, and Mad-Eye's eye swirled around the room multiple times so quickly that it was nauseating to look at.

"I'm fairly sure we know what Potter looks like, boy, and I can assure you, I don't see him here in this room," the ex-Auror growled in Ron's direction. Surprisingly, Ron just smirked in response, perhaps sensing that with his next words Harry was going to get into some major trouble and feeling like the other Gryffindor deserved it as long as the pair were still on the outs with each other.

"You just don't know what to look for," he replied dismissively, causing his mother to admonish him, though it was more out of habit than anything else since she, too, was curious about the entire thing.

"And just what should we be looking for, Ron?" Tonks asked kindly, her hair making a slow shift from electric blue to a deep purple.

"A vampire."

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	17. Into the Fire

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 17: Into the Fire

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For a moment, it was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop, and then everyone was surging out of their chairs, yelling at Ron, yelling at each other, and yelling at Celdere, who hadn't flinched and looked amazingly bored considering the meeting had turned into a circus. Firmly, Harry had to tell himself that this was what he wanted, even if it caused chaos.

"Enough!" he bellowed after a while when the Order members showed no sign of stopping their yelling any time soon, standing to draw their attention. He waited until everyone had stopped, frozen in place one more time, and turned to face him before, with a gesture, the glamour slid from his features. There were several gasps, but the silence held, with the exception of Moody, who muttered, "Potter," with a congenial nod of greeting to the Boy-Who-Lived as if he had known about the glamour the entire time.

"Thank you Headmaster," he said, "and Ron," he added, mostly managing to keep the sour grimace off of his face, "for the introduction." With a sigh, he plunged ahead. "It is time to come clean with you all," he stated boldly, looking across the room and meeting every single gaze without flinching. "If you could please take your seats."

"Harry, what are you doing over there?" Lupin said, the words bursting from him as everyone else returned to their chairs. "She's spelled you, I know it!" he continued, pointing at Celdere with a somewhat crazed look on his face. Next to him, Tonks was trying to tug him back into his chair, but he didn't seem to even notice her efforts.

Harry felt rather than saw Celdere stand silently behind him, rising up like some stone pillar whose sheer presence and anger was making Harry a bit nervous to be so close. Behind her, the other vampires in the retinue shifted angrily, and even the Amazons looked shocked at the accusation. The vampire queen was somewhat notorious for not letting her emotions get away with her (after so many years she could keep her expression and movements perfectly fluid and calm even if she was seething inside), and this was the largest display of anger that Harry had seen from her yet. The most he had managed to garner from her had been a warning tilt of the head and a loud voice; Remus was managing much worse from the get-go if Celdere had actually stood up to face him.

"Is that what you all think?" she asked, her voice barely anything more than an angry snarl. "_Is it?_" she repeated sharply, her tone rising in volume past anything that had been heard from her by any of the Order members, when her query was met with shifty glances. "It is," she concluded, as the silence held, managing to sound eerily like Snape in her obvious contempt of them. Harry placed a hand on her forearm, meant to show her that he could handle things and that she should perhaps calm down, but she merely sent him a burning glance that had him stepping back before he was even aware he was moving.

"Then I must thank you for bringing this wide-spread concern to my attention, _werewolf_," she went on, placing heavy emphasis on the last word as a knife appeared in her hand as if by magic. With a quick glance at the designs on the handle Harry could tell that the blade was made of pure silver, knowing that the vampire used the same discreet labeling system as he did with his own knives. "You will all be pleased to know, no doubt," she continued in a lecturing tone, her displeasure obvious, "that whatever reputation I may have for being a dangerous woman, none of it comes from any magical ability." With a swift movement that was nearly too fast to follow, the knife had gone from her hand to the wood of the table right next to one of Lupin's hands. Paling, he reached out to tug it from the table and absently fingered the bladed edge, not pushing hard enough to cut, but enough to get a better measure for the blade. A loud sizzle sounded throughout the room, followed shortly by the werewolf's yelp of pain as he withdrew the hand that had been on the blade. "I may be a dangerous woman by all accounts, but a wand might as well be a stick for all the good it does me," she finished grimly, as Lupin tossed the knife back into the middle of the table. There were many angry mutters as the people around the table realized what had happened, but no one quite dared to raise their voice loud enough for words to actually be heard while Celdere still looked to be on the warpath.

Crossly, Harry crooked his fingers to summon the blade back to their end of the table, letting Celdere snatch it out of the air and return it to wherever it had come from with a movement so fast that the knife just disappeared. He wasn't sure if he was more upset at the accusation, or the revelation that it hadn't been a concern (however newly formed) of one person, but rather the whole group, or if he was upset at Celdere for her dangerous, and slightly over the top, power trip. The Order members had been sorted out, or they would be when he was done with them, but the vampires were still on shaky territory even with his clear support of them. They needed to be seen as dangerous enough to be an asset, but also as controllable, and as little like savages as possible. Celdere usually did a good job of walking the line with everyone, with her liking for good old-fashioned customs and manners, but occasionally she chose to use intimidation when it wasn't the best-suited choice for the greater cause.

"If that's settled then?" he said, conveying his clear annoyance as Celdere took her seat again, her body language once more perfectly calm and aloof, as he once more took control over the meeting. "Are there any more here who think that I am standing where I am by anything other than choice?" No one spoke up, so he continued on.

"As I said before, it is time to come clean with you all." He gave a sigh, searching for the right words. "As you all know, I received some training over the summer, from an undisclosed source at an undisclosed location. What you do not know is that Celdere's vampires saved me from a Death Eater attack, from both Bellatrix and Lucius," he fought off a wince at dragging a repentant Bella's name through the mud, "and brought me to her for an audience. There are many creatures that the Wizarding world considers dark, and Voldemort considers those races to be what will make up the main bulk of his army. Celdere explained to me in that first meeting that while the vampires might be considered dark, most of them did not want to join with Voldemort, and neither did she. However, if Voldemort were to approach her and ask, her refusal would start a battle between the two forces that would not benefit the vampires, and without her refusal, there was no way to legally ban her vampires from joining his service. What she needed was something to tie them to the light side and forge new alliances so that when the struggle between vampires and Voldemort came, their efforts would be more productive in a greater sense.

"I am that solution," he stated baldly. "As Ron said, Celdere turned me this summer, with my full consent," he added, making sure that his words could not be misconstrued and cause problems. "And made me her heir. Since I am one of Voldemort's main enemies, to support him is to defy my rule, and thus a punishable offense to all vampires. And as a prince, nearly all of the vast resources that the coven has at it's disposal are also at mine. It's a win-win situation," he finished firmly.

Everyone seemed to be somewhat shocked, but processing the information, with the exception of Ron, who had a sour look on his face still, and seemed to be disappointed that his words had caused a stir that Harry was more than capable of settling. And Harry knew that, as a close friend, Ron would naturally have more questions and accusations to fling around than the average Order member, having been around him and having seen nearly every aspect of his life for the past school year. They were the sort of questions that probably weren't entirely appropriate for an Order meeting, but being appropriate had never been one of Ron's strong suits

"And does your girlfriend think that your being a dark creature is a win-win, too? Or is she in the dark like the rest of us?" Harry bristled slightly, but didn't answer right away to keep from yelling at the insensitive redhead. "Or have you forgotten all about her?" Ron added, with a cruel twist to his words. "You know, the one who has helped you through everything even though you've clearly been keeping some secrets from her," he supplied, as if he truly suspected that Harry needed the reminder. Clearly the other Gryffindor was convinced that Hermione was still somewhat in the dark, if not fully in the dark, despite having known about Harry's alter-ego in the first place.

"I keep no secrets from her," Harry thundered as his efforts to keep his temper in check failed miserably. Ron's face was growing steadily redder as he began to put the implications together. Hoping to forestall the outburst, though invariably make the issue worse, he decided that he could use a hand with the redhead from the only other person in the room who could handle him and seemed inclined to help do so at the moment. "As for your first question, I believe that she agrees with me in this instance, though I could be wrong. Let's check, shall we?" he said, a touch mockingly. "Hermione?"

As had happened when Dumbledore had thrown Harry under the bus, his remark caused nothing but general confusion. For that moment, everyone was looking around for the bushy-haired brunette and had forgotten the entire rest of the issue at hand, and their objections to anything that had happened at that point. Mad Eye did a cursory sweep of the room once more, though he did it with a laziness that suggested he knew his search would come up empty (which was entirely plausible considering that he had looked over the room not that long ago when searching for Harry), and even though this indicated that once more the person they were looking for was disguised and in plain sight, Ron took the confusion as proof that Harry was bluffing.

"Hermione isn't here, Harry. I guess you don't think her important enough to make sure she got invited like you did with Ginny and I," he added.

"I think you're wrong, Ronald," Hermione said sharply, standing and throwing her cloak back so that it no longer fell in front of her shoulders as the glamour fell away.

Ron gaped like a fish for a moment before managing a weak, "Hey Hermione."

"Ron," the Amazon returned cooly, her eyes flashing dangerously at him, before adding in a casual nod to his sister. "Ginny."

Silence reigned in the room, allowing both Harry and Hermione to take a look around. They were the only ones standing. The other Amazons and vampires looked on edge, poised for a pitched battle, while Celdere was draped over her chair as if she was so bored by the proceedings she couldn't remain entirely upright. Considering her earlier outburst, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she was nowhere near bored, and that her retinue had every reason to worry about an all-out assault coming their direction. Given the reaction of the younger Weasleys, Harry also thought it possible that the Amazons were just as justified in their tension as well.

At the head of the table, Dumbledore was watching the proceedings with a frown, most likely directed at the harsh words that had been exchanged between the students, but his eyes still twinkled mischievously at the circus the meeting had turned into. The Headmaster was probably not all that worried about the outcome, as Harry and Hermione were, and this allowed him the distance required to find the humor in the sheer pandemonium caused by the sudden and shocking revelations. Next to him, his wife was looking much less pleased with the chaos around them, her lips thinned into a slim line of displeasure that everyone who had ever been her student recognized as a sign of impending doom. Whether it was her anger over Celdere's initial interruption at the beginning of the meeting, her outburst earlier, or her anger was at one of her current pupils (conceivably it could have been Hermione she was upset at, rather than Ron, for her cold treatment of her friends), Harry wasn't sure, but he did know (from experience) that eventually her anger would out itself if not resolved.

Along one of the long sides of the table, Lupin sat, his face ashen, cradling his injured hand. Harry knew that the werewolf was more stunned than injured, and probably was so lost in his thoughts and the events going on around him that he had nearly forgotten that his finger hurt. As it was, the injury would hardly be a difficult one to treat; Harry hoped the same could be same about the mental shock. Next to him, Tonks was torn between worried glances towards the nearly-catatonic werewolf next to her, and the action going on nearly right across the table from her as Hermione took stock of the room and it's occupants while looking almost as much a queen as Celdere did.

Though the two youngest Weasleys were seated on the same side of the table as the Amazons were, the others were all grouped together about as far away from them as it was possible to be, occupying the corner diagonally across from them, nearest to the vampires. A glance at Arthur's face told him that the man appeared to have mostly become resigned to the information and what it meant for the future of the Order and his family, but his wife's face told another story. Where Arthur appeared to at least be at peace with what he had learned thus far, realizing truly that it was beyond undoing at that stage of the game and therefore really beyond protestation, Molly's mouth stood open, her face turning a mottled red color as she attempted to suppress her words and emotions, and her eyes practically bulged with shock. Minerva, at the far end of the table, would eventually erupt into anger, as Harry could see from the look on her face, but it was going to be much farther into the meeting than Molly's impending eruption. In fact, Harry wasn't even sure that she would make it until Hermione decided how to continue her story.

The twins, however, were the only people at the table that looked entirely gleeful, perhaps due to the shocking and surprising nature of the revelations this meeting had contained. Though the twins loved to be pranksters and tricksters, and be the cause of mayhem, they (like any good prankster) had a good appreciation for a good joke and an awesome prank. Though this didn't end with anyone's hair turning purple, except for Tonks, or suddenly being stuck to the ceiling, or anything else along those lines, this was the result of a massive trick that had been played on them all, and they could appreciate the finesse it had taken for the younger Gryffindors to pull it off. The fact that they were revealing it in such a chaotic manner, of course, just absolutely delighted them. They privately thought that this was probably as close to doing an actual prank on someone as Hermione was going to get, and they were determined to spend every minute of it enjoying it. Doubly so, since they for once would not be getting in trouble for any of it.

The two aurors, placed at opposite corners, simply stayed quiet and watched the proceedings. They had none of the shock that most people had at the table, none of the worry, but also none of the glee that rounded out the other reactions. Instead, Harry could see a quiet contemplation, and knew that in both heads the gears were turning to try and find the advantages and disadvantages to the situation, as both had been trained to do. The men, unlike Tonks who was too worried about the man she clearly loved to be thinking entirely soundly, both looked at the situation in an entirely tactical light. Harry knew that, until all of the cards were laid out, or someone needed shutting up, both Kingsley and Moody would stay quiet.

"This changes nothing," Hermione said eventually, her tone soft, probably at the obvious shock on some people's faces. "Harry and I may have gained the support of our respective nations, but we're still the same people we have always been, just with more responsibilities than before." Her eyes flickered to meet Harry's with a mournful expression swimming in their depths before it was replaced by the hardened look of determination he knew took her some effort to maintain.

"That was you, at the last meeting?" Molly queried quietly, her voice once again the soft tones that said she was about to explode if they weren't careful.

"It was," Hermione confirmed, though she said it hesitantly, unsure how the response was about to get her in trouble with the Weasley matriarch, but knowing that it was coming anyway.

"Then _how_ can you say that nothing has changed?" the woman yelled, standing abruptly. Taken aback, Hermione could only blink for a moment.

Then, as if it pained her to say it, she ventured, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand the question, Mrs. Weasley."

This time, it was Molly's turn to face the secretive pair and sneer. Harry was beginning to think that perhaps all conflicts turned people into Snape when the Order and Voldemort were concerned. "The vampires have groups going out and slaughtering Death Eaters on the sly to even the odds. Obviously Harry had no objection in the first place, but you both stood here in this meeting and supported that decision. Can you honestly say that the old Harry and the old Hermione would have supported murder?"

The Amazons behind Hermione shifted, though whether it was out of anger or nervousness, it was difficult to tell. Behind Harry, the more telling sign of the same feelings in Celdere's retinue was the eerie stillness with which they were suddenly sitting, poised in total silence so that they could hear every single word that was being said.

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione began, scoffing slightly, though the Amazon Queen looked like she had been punched in the stomach. "Surely you can't -," she began, but her sentence ended abruptly and she seemed as if she couldn't find the words to continue on with her thought.

"An excellent question, Molly," Minerva said evenly from the end of the table. This time, Hermione had every right to look winded, as her audible gasp made it clear that the shock has been as close to a literal blow to the stomach as it was possible. Harry understood how she was feeling; Minerva was supposed to be one of the few people in the room who supported them, and yet she was not standing up for them here. He did, however, understand the concern at hand here.

"If I may?" he asked gently, knowing that Hermione had taken impromptu control of the meeting, but also realizing that she probably wouldn't be able to formulate a response until she had been given the chance to gather her wits again. With one hand pressed to the bottom of her rib cage, she waved the other at him in a shaky gesture to continue on without her. "I honestly cannot say if I would have supported this earlier this summer, no." Mutters started up at that. "However," he continued loudly, silencing the voices again, "I cannot say for sure that the fact that I now do is purely due to my being a vampire. Or that it is due to Hermione being an Amazon that makes her agree with the logic. Killing someone, even a Death Eater, is not the optimal choice here." Privately, he thought that Celdere might disagree, but her views were probably never going to force his to budge that far. "However, there is only so much that we can do that will effectively stop them, short of using less than savory means." He took a breath, and then continued.

"For some of you, this is your first war," he pointed out, "but for some of you this is your second war, or even your third. There are followers and supporters of Voldemort who have been known to be so, if not by the law then at least by us, since the beginning of this war. The Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Rosiers, the Averys, the Carrows, the Crabbes, the Goyles; these are all names that have been known Death Eaters since this war began. And they're all on the loose, in a manner of speaking. How many of those names were put on trial?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "And how many of those put on trial were judged innocent? And the more important question, how many of those who were actually sent to Azkaban as they deserved still remain there?"

"You see, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione cut in gently, having regained her voice, "there really aren't that many options. What the Order would have us do is turn them into the Ministry, but evidence has proven that in the past the Ministry was corrupt, and it has shown that even now the Ministry isn't as secure as it needs be. And even if we could get them all put in Azkaban, there is no guarantee that they would stay there for very long." It was unfortunate, but true. Voldemort had staged at least one break out, and he could very easily do so again. "Meanwhile, when one of us gets captured, they are killed rather than imprisoned, meaning that there is no hope of rescuing our own as we have given the Death Eaters."

"Do any of us want to kill anyone, even a Death Eater? No," Harry told them, answering his question before anyone could say anything that perhaps wouldn't be what he wanted. "And does it pain me to know that a nation that I command, to some extent, is responsible for such underhanded tactics like ambushes and traps? Yes it does," he said firmly. "But without those tactics, the Death Eaters numbers not only remain steady, but are allowed to grow, and that cannot be allowed to continue."

"That's all very fine and well, Mr. Potter," came McGonagall's crisp, Scottish voice from the other end of the table, "but I have a feeling that while on this issue, the two of you may be in agreement with your nations, but on another issue, I hardly think that policy will hold up to your moral standards."

"Just what is this about, Professor?" Harry asked calmly. Luckily for Hermione and himself, the major issue they had expected to come across (their identities) had been mostly skimmed over. However, that means that the issues were now coming to hit them in areas they hadn't been quite prepared to defend. To make matters worse, they were coming from directions that they hadn't been prepared to defend from. Harry suspected that the transfiguration professor's issues were directed more at Celdere than at anyone or anything else, but Celdere knew that this was Harry and Hermione's issue, and therefore it would be the two of them defending it unless they really needed the elder vamp's help.

Minerva eyed him from the opposite end of the table. "The topic of conversation hasn't changed, Mr. Potter," she pointed out softly. "I am merely worried that your involvement in this, and how you are involved, is having some unforeseen consequences on the way in which you think and reason."

Harry sighed, every nuance of his posture shifting into one of annoyance. Minerva was still singing the same tune that she always had been, and while it was refreshing to be back on stable ground, it was incredibly frustrating to realize that nothing they had said yet had managed to convince the Deputy Headmistress. "Minerva," he said, drawing a few gasps at his use of her given name. Though he and Hermione had been using it for months, it wasn't the sort of thing that they broadcasted to the world, but Harry wanted to remind the professor that they were closer than the average student and teacher pair. "Is this your original concern from the beginning of March, or is this a similar, yet unrelated, issue that has only just now sprouted up?" he asked. At the very least, by pointing out to the entire room that she had known about this for some time he was able to take some of the heat off of himself.

Minerva ignored the questioning glances shot her way and continued to look at him evenly over the rim of her spectacles.

"Professor," Hermione cut in, "Why are you so convinced that we are both an instant away from becoming Voldemort himself?" Studiously, she ignored the response that using the Dark Lord's name elicited from most of the table. "Have you seen anything from either of us this entire year that has given you cause to think that? We may have been playing everyone around us to keep our secrets safe, but never once have we displayed anything but a healthy dislike for this war and an eagerness to see it through to the end before it consumes what is left of our lives," she said firmly, her voice rising on the last words.

There was a spark of something in the Transfiguration Professor's eyes that started the wheels in Harry's head to start to turn. "The Hermione Granger I once knew wouldn't have been capable of the self-serving maneuvering required to play every single person in her life so that she could effectively live two lives," Minerva stated quietly. "And if you have managed to maintain the illusion that you both were the same as you were when school let out last summer for this long, what is to say that you haven't managed to shield an illusion with another illusion? What is to say that this is where the deception ends?" she asked.

Hermione's posture softened inexplicably. "Because I know that you've had enough time to acquaint yourself with an Amazon Hermione, Minerva, and I know that you are fully aware that the Hermione you knew is still sitting right in front of you."

"Hermione," Harry said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table as the two witches stared at each other over the heads of the handful of people who were seated between them, both with slightly misty eyes and something resembling heartbreak on their faces. She didn't look his way, but he saw her attention flicker towards him, and continued anyway. "I think that the Professor here is worried that our positions will force us to make a decision that will send us down a very dark path, and that once there we won't be able to return from where we came," he told her, his voice carrying around the room effortlessly. It was the only conclusion that he was able to draw; Minerva refused to fully accept that they wouldn't be corrupted by their new positions, and yet seemed to fully agree with Hermione's assessment that they were still the same people. With an effort that was obvious to everyone watching, Minerva tore her gaze away from the Amazon queen's and gave a silent nod in his direction. Harry gave a sigh of relief at having guessed right, because that meant that they could once more head in a productive direction.

"This is war, Professor," he said. "Everyone in this room is here because something has to be done to stop it, and everyone in this room has done something that they would have preferred to not have done for the sake of this war. The Death Eaters have no morality, and that means that they will stop at nothing. We cannot win against that without compromising to some extent, and it is only our guilt and hesitation at doing so that marks us as being different from them. But, Professor, your worry over us can be applied to anyone here. You worry that I will be forced to make a decision that I don't like simply because it is the vampire thing to do, and that following custom will lead me down a dangerous path. How is my position any different than yours?

"For a moment, let us say that _this_ is Dumbledore's Army," he continued, a slight smile gracing his lips at the thought of the D.A., "and that he is the one who decides what is done and what isn't. Can you honestly say that you have never disagreed with the Headmaster?" he asked, knowing that the answer couldn't possibly be yes. "And can you honestly say that you have been in disagreement with him over an issue, and yet the bond that you share with him, though there is nothing that says that you cannot do as you wish, has compelled you to do that which you did not want to do?" He surmised that she was the most likely to have been put in that awkward position more so than anyone else, given that it was her job as Deputy Headmistress to support Dumbledore's actions, at least in public, and the fact that she was his wife would have only served to reinforce that.

"It is our decisions that make us who we are," she murmured, not denying anything.

"And it is never too late to turn back and right wrongs nor is any situation so far gone that it cannot be twisted into giving a more favorable outcome than it looked capable of from the beginning," he countered. Sighing in defeat, Minerva nodded, removing her glasses so that she could pinch the bridge of her nose with elegant fingers.

"This _is_ an advantage." Kingsley's rumbling basso caught everyone by surprise; there were a few people at the table who had been so silent that they had nearly escaped everyone's notice, and while they had reacted just as everyone else had, their lack of vocal argument had allowed them to fade into the background. "Harry and Hermione were right last meeting when they said that this is amazingly helpful for the Order," he continued assertively.

"I wasn't there, but I'd reckon that Bill would have gotten more than just a scratch if it hadn't been for Harry interfering," Moody barked, the two Aurors proving how well they worked together by tag-teaming the meeting much as Harry and Hermione had been with surprising fluidity given that they were improvising the entire thing. "And I don't think that Potter would have been able to escape injury himself if anyone had been able to figure out that he was in the middle of that fight," he added. Molly opened her mouth, but was cut off

"We don't have the resources that we need to be truly effective," Kinglsey said, before Molly could actually utter anything, "and there is nothing than can keep these two out of this fight given their positions. Doesn't it seem like the best idea to use their resources and work together, instead of adding more wild cards to the game?" he questioned.

"Are we more or less accepting of tonight's revelation?" Dumbledore asked the group at large, sounding as if he just wanted to get the meeting over with so that he wouldn't have to continue to listen to people argue themselves in circles. No one spoke out to say that they weren't, but Harry and Hermione could see that at least three of the Weasleys seemed to be upset with the turn of events.

"Meeting adjourned," he said softly, causing both Harry and Hermione to sag slightly in relief before taking their seats again, deciding to just stay where they were until the others had left. Their battle wasn't over, not by a long shot, but at least they were at a point where they could rest for a moment before having to charge back into the fight.

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	18. Confrontations

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 18: Confrontations

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Harry and Hermione had waited until everyone left before returning to Hogwarts, ignoring the slight chatter of both vampires and amazons as the two groups were forced to mingle by their shared paths. The entire group had a slightly subdued air about them, neither half entirely assured that they were in the clear, and whether such a move had done more harm than good. For that matter, neither were Harry and Hermione. Their options were clear, of course, and this had truly been the only one to take, but it hadn't seemed to do either of them any favors with the Weasleys, and the events of the meeting were going to make things tense all around. Harry suspected that Remus would continue to be upset over the events; the other man had tried to take over Sirius's godfather duties but hadn't quite been able to do so, given that he tended to keep to himself in a way that Sirius never had, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that once he had recovered from the idea that Harry was a dark creature (like Remus himself was) the other man's mood would slump into something akin to guilt. Being a werewolf truly was a curse, Harry knew, and there was very little that could make the affliction the Marauder had seem any better than it was, but that wasn't the case for vampires. None of being a vampire was involuntary, but Remus wouldn't see it that way, not at first. It was going to make things tense.

Furthermore, Tonks had been too preoccupied to voice her opinions at the meeting, but on the off chance that the woman had them, they would come out at another time when she wasn't trying to keep Remus from being stupid. Harry honestly wasn't sure what the Metamorphagus would think about it, but he hoped that it would be something similar to the reactions of her fellow Aurors. The pair could really only afford to have so many people still suspicious of them, and this suspicion was even worse than it had been before their identities had been revealed.

Hopefully, Harry thought, Minerva was at least taken care of for good. He, of course, could only be so sure, given that he had had this exact thought before. He did understand that the older woman felt betrayed somehow, but he was adamant about not having changed in any significant way. This was a war, as he'd pointed out, and he'd been forced to look the harsher realities in the face and adapt. It meant lots of growing up, and in a short space of time. They weren't the same they had been, but they hadn't strayed from the path they had been on, and that was the important thing in Harry's opinion.

Next to him, Hermione walked in silence, lower lip between her teeth as she, too, contemplated the night's results. Harry, feeling no need to speak either, simply let his feet keep him with the group, Hermione still at his side, and apparated back to Hogwarts when they had reached a safe point at the end of the street. The Amazons took their leave at the gates, heading back into the forest as Harry and Hermione trudged through the gates, which swung open at their touch, and up to Gryffindor Tower. A brief embrace and kiss later, and they had parted, all without saying a word. The full weight of the meeting, though somewhat made lighter by having survived it, was still fairly heavy. Ron, it seemed, hadn't gotten back much before them, though, given that Harry hadn't seen him on the walk up to the castle, he guessed that they had portkeyed back to the Headmaster's office. The redhead seemed content to ignore him as he walked in, sending him only the slightest glare to show the vampire prince that nothing was truly solved, at least not yet. Frustrated, Harry just closed his curtains and tumbled into bed, hoping that the sleep would give him a fresh outlook on how to make his best friend see reason about this issue.

When he woke, it was to the realization that he hadn't been lucky enough to dream up a solution to the problem in his sleep. Ron was snoring loudly still, as was Neville, and Harry guessed that he was the only one awake. Glancing at the clock showed him that he had plenty of time before classes, as breakfast had just began, and mechanically, mind still busy, he got dressed and headed downstairs.

"We're way too attuned to each other," Hermione's voice said as he stepped into the Common Room to see her coming down the last few steps of the girl's staircase.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is, when we both look like we hardly got any sleep and yet are still up this early," she replied gently, crossing the room and reaching up to stroke his cheek with slender fingers. "How was Ron when you got back last night?"

"Silent as the grave," he replied, smiling without humor at his pun. Then, sighing, he continued, "Last night didn't really fix anything with him, it just kept it from breaking anyone else."

She fixed him with a knowing look. "Well, we expected that, somewhat, didn't we?" she asked briskly. "And you ought to know by now, from experience, that he can hold a grudge for a while before realizing he's been a prick about something."

"True," Harry admitted, mood still soured by the entire situation. It had nothing to do with Hermione's words, but rather the reality of his life at the moment he had awakened. It wasn't likely to change, as she had pointed out, anytime soon. "Breakfast?"

"Let's," she said simply, taking his hand and heading for the portrait hole. Their entire walk was made in silence, each wrapped up in their thoughts of last night, each trying to come up with something new to turn things around. Neither had managed yet. Thankfully, theirs wasn't the sort of relationship where silence needed to be filled, and the Great Hall was still empty enough at that hour that no one was around to question their silence.

Slowly but surely, the Great Hall started to fill with more and more students and faculty. Dumbledore paused, nearly imperceptibly, as he drew even with the pair, the twinkle in his eyes dimming ever so slightly before returning to full force as he continued his journey to the high table. Minutes behind him, Minerva McGonagall also paused as she passed the two teens, much more obviously than her husband had, opening her mouth as if to say something before thinking better of it, closing her mouth, and heading towards the empty seat at Dumbledore's right hand. Still, Harry and Hermione remained silent. Much later, Ron, accompanied by Seamus and Dean, strode into the room, happily chatting away about quidditch and made a show of sitting at the far end of the table from the pair already seated. With a sigh, Harry closed his eyes firmly, praying for patience, before opening them again and continuing on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Across the table from him, Hermione and Morgan, who had followed the boys into the hall, looked at him with concern evident in their eyes. Harry didn't know what he had expected Ron to do, but he knew that the hopeful part of him had expected something aside from what had actually happened.

The feminine hands being placed confidently on the table next to him shook him out of his thoughts as he realized that someone had come up behind him and was now leaning on the Gryffindor table. Without turning to look at the person, whose perfume he didn't recognize, he glanced up at Morgan and Hermione, who were facing the person next to him, to judge their reactions. Both were, for the most part, impassive, but Harry knew them both well enough to recognize the slight distaste on Hermione's and the calculating curiosity on Morgan's. His curiosity peaked and he turned to face the intruder calmly.

"Weasley seems awfully unhappy at you two," the Slytherin girl said without preamble as her eyes met his. "It kinda makes a girl wonder what happened to break up the Golden Trio."

Harry eyed her, trying to place the blonde in front of him. He was fairly sure that she was in their year, but for the life of him, he couldn't come up with her name. "Surely even we are allowed to have something as mundane as roommate squabbles?" he asked in response.

"I don't buy it," the blonde replied, but instead of continuing on to either ask what had happened, or explain her sudden interest, she simply stood there, somehow managing to look bored and interested at the same time as she looked at Harry.

"Daphne, what exactly is it that you're fishing for here?" Hermione interrupted, tone sharp. That was enough for Harry to remember who the girl was: Daphne Greengrass, a seventh year Slytherin that he had seen with Pansy on a few occasions, though more often than not she seemed to have nothing to do with the seeming-powerhouses in the Slytherin posse and instead hung out with Tracey Davis, another seventh year Slytherin.

Daphne's eyes flickered towards Hermione and then back to Harry, eyes searching his for something. A moment later, she appeared to be satisfied with what she had seen and her eyes flickered back to Hermione. "I'll tell you," she told the Gryffindors, "but not here. Follow me."

Morgan raised an eyebrow in amusement as she strode off towards the Entrance Hall without waiting for any of them, as if she was entirely certain that the trio would follow her. The sad thing, Harry realized with a grimace, was that they had hesitated for only a moment before moving to follow the Slytherin. They had to give it to her, Daphne's self assurance was rather high, and rather inspirational.

"You wanted to talk to us?" he asked her coolly when they had assembled in an unused classroom off of the entrance hall and silencing charms had been put up. The Slytherin girl had been staring at them in turns for the past several minutes, not saying anything as the Gryffindors waited for her to get to the point, but she had seemed perfectly content to just stare. They were used to it, somewhat, when Luna did something of a similar nature, but on anyone else it was just enough to make them antsy. Either Daphne Greengrass was off her rocker, or she was brilliant.

"What did you guys do to get Weasley's knickers in a twist?" she asked without preamble the instant he asked. Annoyed, both at the repetition and the prompt answer, which told him she had just been faking her lack of attention span, Harry couldn't help but snap the answer at her.

"I believe we've already been over this," he started. "Roommate issues."

"Oh," she replied simply. "I was listening the first time, I just thought you'd like the chance to tell the truth." The three of them shot her angry looks.

"Look, I am _really_ not in the mood for this today, Greengrass, so if you're not going to get to the point, then I'm leaving before things get messier than they have to be." He wasn't making things up; the day was hard enough with Ron being an idiot without adding stupid Slytherins who seemed to have shown up at that precise moment to be an irritant.

"Fine," she huffed, "you want me to get to the point, here it is. Weasley is ridiculously easy to read. He has a jealous streak the size of Africa and the only thing that can put him into a worse mood than jealousy is Slytherins, since he's convinced that we're all replicas of Malfoy. If it was jealousy, Hermione would be attempting to mediate between you two, Potter, and she's not. In fact," she pointed out, a touch smug, "he's just as mad at her as he is at you. I'm going to assume, then, that you haven't managed to enter yourself in another Triwizard Tournament and instead assume that he's pissed at you because he sees a similarity to Slytherins in the both of you, which means that, against all hope, the Gryffindor Golden Boy must not be quite so golden anymore."

"You know what they say about assuming things," Hermione snarked, but otherwise none of them Gryffindors made any move to stop her flow of logic as it unfurled. Harry's voice followed right on the heels of her observance.

"You and I haven't spoken more than three words to each other in seven years, Greengrass, but now that you've decided I'm a dark wizard you're rushing to suddenly become my best friend?" he asked, voice making it clear that he wasn't about to be taken in by a plot like that. "For someone who moments ago tried to make a mockery of the idea that you're all like Malfoy, you seem to be doing a good job at impersonating the little bootlicker."

"Hey now," Daphne said, unruffled by the accusations the pair had thrown her way, "I never said anything about you being a dark wizard. You hopped on that bandwagon of your own accord."

"Then get to the point," Harry hissed, eyes narrowing. He was not in the mood for this sort of thing, today of all days, and it was one thing to have to talk to a Slytherin, which was already infuriating of it's own accord, but to the bossiest, and most chatty, one he'd ever met. It was clear to him that she was enjoying talking in circles around him, leading him one way with her story and then another, baiting him to try to get a reaction and gain information. He was irritated enough that he could very easily say more than he meant; the Order might not have been easily convinced that he was still the same person, but if they had seen him lose his temper they would have known that underneath (and not that far down, either) his cool and calm persona he was still the same hothead who had once destroyed Dumbledore's office in a fit of pique.

"Look, Potter," Daphne said, as if he hadn't interrupted, "not every Slytherin is dark, but there is no such thing as a light Slytherin. People think that the range goes from white to black but it doesn't where I come from; the scale in Slytherin goes from gray to black. Dumbledore and his secret little Order, which, by the way, isn't the best kept secret in the world, doesn't do gray. It makes a solid statement, I'll give the old man that," she rambled conversationally, "but it loses him a lot of support. No Slytherin in their right mind would agree to fight a war using only the tools his holiness allows, which kind of leaves those of us who weren't planning on getting a skull tattoo out in the cold. Can't join one side, and won't join the other.

"That has been a problem for a very long time, but I'm pretty sure that it's not anymore. See, Weasley, if I'm right, Weasley is pissed at you because he thinks you're, in some way, too similar to being one of them. And, looking back at this year and what I know of you, which admittedly isn't much, I can see how he might have jumped to that conclusion. You're different this year, Potter. You've got this aloofness to you, some confidence, you appear to actually be using your brain this year instead of riding in on Granger's coat-tails, and you seem to be using some of that intelligence to question the system. What's worse, you've got Granger doing it too." The smirk on her face at the idea of Hermione, well known throughout all of the houses for her liking of rules, was impossibly broad.

"Great, I'm going dark because I've gained some confidence?" Harry asked sardonically. "Alert the media."

"No, talking to Rita Skeeter isn't really my style," Daphne told him dismissively. "I know that there's something bigger going on behind the scenes, Potter, even if I don't know what that something is. You pissed off McGonagall, and not only that, but the two of you somehow managed to get her upset at the both of you, which I didn't think was possible. You've pissed off Weasley. You've had what I suspect was a lover's quarrel over Granger attacking McGonagall in the middle of class, and the very fact that she tried to do it in the first place speaks volumes of McGonagall's reaction to whatever it is you've got the teacher's pet doing. And that entire debacle suggests that what should have been pure leopard was very much less leopard than it should have been."

"That's a lot of suspicion and nothing really solid," Morgan pointed out, beating Hermione to the punch. The Amazon was visibly angry; though it was true that Hermione was a stickler for the rules, and somewhat of a teacher's pet, and McGonagall's favorite none of that being said in such stark terms painted a very complimentary picture of the Gryffindor.

"Yes, well, I'm okay with that." Daphne shrugged. "Eventually, I'll have something more solid, but I don't need it to finally get to my point and have you still listening to me. There are some of us Slytherins who want in on this war, and not on You-Know-Who's side of the game. We're even willing to lighten up a bit to do so, if you'll pardon the pun. Problem is, none of you appeared to be willing to get a bit darker to meet us in the middle, and there's only so far we could stretch in your direction. But from what I've seen, whatever this huge secret is that seems to be at the heart of every public and not very well covered up quarrel this term, it's enough to convince me that someone on the light side has finally reached the halfway point. Dumbledore's Order is nice, but I don't have to be on his side to not be on You-Know-Who's side, and your side appears to be lacking in the entirety of Gryffindor goodness. It's a match made in heaven."

"Or Hell," Hermione deadpanned. Daphne just turned her gaze from Harry to Hermione.

"Look, Granger. I want in, and I'm not going to Dumbledore, especially when there is no need for me to do so."

"And what if you're wrong, and we're just a couple more members of Dumbledore's little secret?" Harry wanted to know.

The blonde shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me," she said carelessly. "You either will be, or you won't be, and either way, I've done the most I can do to put myself in your way. If you're just having me on, which I think you are, then you, at least, know that you can start using me as a resource right away. If you're not having me on, then when you come to the point where you're willing to step outside of your little box you know that you can come to me. And if you never come to that point, then I guess I'll be pretty idle for the duration of this war, won't I?" The statement seemed entirely too jovial for someone who claimed to sincerely want a role in this war.

Harry just stared at her, sensing Hermione doing the same thing only a few feet to his right. Her faith in him was somewhat astonishing, and at the same time he couldn't be entirely sure how flattered he was by the view she seemed to have that he was running around the school corrupting his friends into behaving in the same devious manner that he seemed to have adopted. The fact that, to some extent, he was the cause for Hermione's fight with Minerva, though it had been imperfectly masked from prying eyes, and that he was also the cause for her newfound penchant for breaking such trivial rules as curfew for a walk in the aptly named Forbidden Forest didn't make him feel any better.

Morgan, however, seemed to be the only one with her wits still about her. "And where exactly do you draw the line, Greengrass, when it comes to following him, if it should come to that?" The question was genuinely interested, and it didn't take too much effort to see the roots of the question. Daphne had already said she could only go so light, but she had said nothing about how dark she would go, and when it came right down to things, Harry and Hermione were willing to go much farther in the direction of dark than they would have before, so long as doing so was practical. It was doubtful that Daphne would draw the line where they themselves were still willing to go, but asking made it easier to discuss her feelings on status, not only of blood, but for those who the Ministry would label as creatures.

"I won't follow Dumbledore," she said, flat out, "because the man pulls his punches when he should be fighting flat out. He does it because he thinks there's good in everyone, but that kind of thinking would have killed a lesser man years ago, and I won't follow it. Gryffindors do things because they're 'just' and 'noble' and 'good', but Slytherins do things because they will benefit us in someway. You're not a useful soldier if you're dead, anyway," she added bluntly.

Morgan simply nodded. Following orders, but tempering their execution with your own judgment, was something that was both practical and something that Harry and Hermione both already felt prudent to cultivate as much as possible. Daphne was right, there was no use in going out and foolishly getting yourself killed, and there were some situations where retreating was more practical than maintaining orders. "And what about blood purity?"

"Well, if I truly cared a whit about it, do you honestly think I'd be here talking to three Gryffindors, none of whom are pureblood and one of whom is fully muggleborn?" she asked with a short, barking, laugh. "What question are you really asking, then?"

"Dark creatures," Morgan answered without preamble. "Harry has an uncle of sorts who is a werewolf, and Dumbledore seems to have a penchant for taking those who aren't fully human under his wing as pets," she said, knowing that in some cases it was true, and in others totally wrong. None of the vampires or amazons were in any way his 'pet' but Lupin and Hagrid could hardly be considered anything but.

"Oh, those," Daphne said with a trace of a frown. "Can't say that I mind them but they _do_ have a habit of being contagious, and I am rather fond of being fully human."

Though relieved, Harry and Morgan made sure to keep it off of their faces. Neither could be entirely sure if Hermione had managed to do the same, since Amazons were a passionate bunch and hiding her feelings weren't her strong suit, despite the fact that she rarely failed to be completely logical, but if she didn't the relief would be easily explained by what the entire castle knew to be true about Hermione. S.P.E.W. had served to make the entire castle aware of just how much Hermione liked championing for misunderstood and underprivileged creatures, and it could only be assumed that if she was as passionate about house elves as she was, given that they weren't human at all, that she would be more so about something bearing a much closer resemblance to herself. At that moment, the warning bell for classes rang, saving the trio from having to come up with some other excuse to end the conversation. None of them wanted to conform her suspicions just yet, and they had all been at a loss on how to end the conversation without doing just that.

"Great, we've got Transfiguration," Harry said coolly, holding a hand out towards Hermione, who took it, and giving the Slytherin a curt nod. She returned it, and the four of them walked from the room without another word, and nothing in their faces to suggest that they had even been civil to each other, let alone held a conversation.

Ron, when they entered, was early for once, firmly ensconced between Dean and Seamus as if the pair were bookends, somehow managing to remind Harry forcibly of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. McGonagall looked up from her papers as they took the empty table near the front that they usually sat at, eyes flickering questioningly towards Ron. With the smallest of exasperated sighs, he shook his head minutely. No, things were not better between the pair, nor did they look likely to improve in the near future. Regret and sadness lingered in the older woman's eyes for a moment before disappearing as she returned to her papers, scrawling a short note at the foot of a roll of parchment (Harry strongly suspected that it was a particularly horrible essay written by a student in one of the earlier years given the way in which her writing seemed to be punctured with several sharp movements that Harry couldn't recall ever noticing as being a characteristic of her handwriting) and then standing to bring the class to attention.

Perhaps it was the fact that Harry's mind was hardly on the lesson at all, being more focused on the interesting combination of Ron and Daphne Greengrass, but the lesson seemed to fly by, and it wasn't long before the Transfiguration Professor was dismissing them and students were scrambling to pack their things back into their bags before moving on to the next class. Ron, as if to prove that he couldn't stand to be in the same room with the vampire for longer than was absolutely necessary, was one of the first ones out the door in an unnecessary show of haste. Harry's exit was the polar opposite, since contemplation and the melancholy he felt at the fact that last night's meeting hadn't really fixed anything made his limbs feel ten times heavier than usual. Feet dragging, he left the room, unable to ignore the feeling of Minerva's sympathetic eyes on him.

Midway through the day, after several more class periods where Ron sat as far away as physically possible from the Boy-Who-Lived and left the room as hastily as possible, Harry started feeling the beginnings of anger burn in his veins. He had tried to explain himself, and if the redhead was having none of it that wasn't his fault, was it? And, Harry was beginning to get tired of this relationship that he and Ron seemed to have in which Harry was expected to be constant support and encouragement while Ron was allowed to come and go as he pleased. Harry felt more like a lap dog, if that was how their relationship was supposed to be, than a friend.

Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "We need to corner them somehow and talk to them," she said out of the blue as they moved between classes. Though they hadn't really discussed Ron or Ginny all day, Harry had no problem figuring out which "them" she meant.

"You really think that's going to help?" Harry asked skeptically. "We talked to them last night, didn't we? Fat lot of help that was."

Hermione's response was delivered with an air of pained patience. "Harry, you know Ron as well as I do. He likes feeling like the injured party, and he likes the attention. He also likes to talk big and let others finish his battles for him once he's out-talked himself." Harry found himself nodding. Spending time with Ron meant listening to the redhead go on about himself, complain about school and anything else remotely tedious, and argue with Hermione or Malfoy. Only once could Harry ever remember Ron attempting to back up his brash words with his wand, and that incident had made the Gryffindor belch slugs for a day. He'd had other opportunities before and after that, ones where teachers weren't necessarily around to get involved, but the other boy had always seemed more interested in verbal abuse than in physical anything.

"Yes, but he's also stubborn as a mule," he pointed out. If she was thinking, as he thought she was, about cornering them and calling Ron's bluff it would be a very risky move. There was always the danger that Ron's stubbornness would win out, and they might as well talk to a wall if that were the case.

"Yes, well, he's being an ass," Hermione stated primly, "and I for one would like the chance to knock him back in line when his mother and Head of House aren't around to pick up his fight and attempt to finish it for him." Harry had to admit, that was a somewhat fair assessment.

"Well, that's settled then, isn't it?" he asked with faux cheer. "After dinner then?"

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It was easy enough work to separate Ron from Dean and Seamus on the seventh floor as they headed back to the common room after dinner. Harry had simply come right up behind them in the corridor and deftly inserted himself between the redhead and the other two Gryffindors. By the time the pair noticed, Ron was several feet away from them as Harry casually used all of his vampiric abilities to keep the redhead at his side, moving towards the Room of Requirement. They, of course, protested at the obvious kidnapping of their newly found best mate, and since Harry was usually fairly reasonable they decided to take the issue up with him like gentlemen; Their mouths had been open for only a moment before Hermione was between the two groups, her wand tucked safely away, but the warning look on her face serving as more than enough warning for the baffled boys to remain silent. Unsure, they hesitated, taking in the utter calm and seriousness with which Hermione was standing, before abruptly turning and resuming their path as if nothing had happened.

Ron, for his part, put up much more of a fuss than his two new best friends, and has been struggling violently against the grip that Harry had on his upper arm, but just because the young Weasley was proving that he wasn't afraid of vampires didn't also mean that their powers ceased to work on him. Luckily, for the sake of Ron's pride, their destination wasn't all that far away, and as soon as the door appeared Harry finally let go. Elated, and as red as his hair, the angry Gryffindor turned to face the vampire heir, the words that were on his lips dying instantly as, in one fluid motion, Harry opened the door and Hermione shoved him inside the room. Two stumble steps past the threshold and the door was closed again, leaving Ron in the plainest room he'd ever seen the Room produce. Blinking stupidly at it for a moment, it took him a while to turn around again to face the door and turn his mind towards the issue of escape. Naturally, when he finally was facing the door, there was no longer a door there to face. For a moment, panic flooded him as he wondered if perhaps Harry aimed to trap him in there forever, but then logic kicked in and he realized that, if that was Harry's aim, he wouldn't have allowed himself to be seen dragging Ron down the hallway. He would be coming back then. When he did, Ronald Weasley was giving him a piece of his mind.

Harry and Hermione, unconcerned about the redhead's predicament, merely turned towards the Gryffindor common room in search of the youngest Weasley. This snag and drag was even simpler than the first since all Harry had to do was sling an arm around Ginny's shoulder and tell her friends that he needed a word with her really quick, and would they mind? They assured him very adamantly that they did not, and Hermione wasn't even forced to move from her position by the portrait hole until Harry and Ginny, being forcibly steered out the door by Harry's controlling and strategically placed arm, went past her. Only then did she come to his aid, helping to steer the younger girl towards the room where her brother paced angrily. Ginny received the same unceremonious shove into the room as Ron, only by the time she recovered the door was still open and Harry and Hermione were just passing through it as the room morphed into something a touch more comfortable.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a seething Ginny asked as the pair calmly seated themselves in two of the comfy chairs that had appeared, beating her brother to the punch. Pointedly, the younger Gryffindor drew herself up to her full height, straightening her robes as she opened her mouth to continue ranting.

"I think we need to talk, don't you agree?" Hermione stated before Ginny could form the beginnings of another sentence. Her tone indicated that disagreement wasn't an option for the two redheads.

"Our apologies, of course, for the method; we weren't sure how well you'd take the invitation," Harry continued smoothly. Though neither of them finished each other's sentences or anything of the sort normally, it was becoming apparent to Ron and Ginny, after only one meeting, that they were extremely more in sync with each other when it came to business matters. How had they not noticed how well they tag teamed situations so that it skewed the balance in their favor?

"I don't generally enjoy being kidnapped by Dark Creatures, Harry, so I guess your concern was justified," Ron said with a shrug, as if he didn't care one whit.

"Yes, about that," the vampire prince said, leaning forward as he latched onto the topic, "let's set a few things straight. The insults stop here. The Ministry may classify vampires as dark, but Amazons are not and from now on, your language should reflect this fact. Additionally, while vampires may be dark, that doesn't mean that we are evil, so quit pretending as if I've got Voldemort growing out of the back of my head."

"You've been keeping a lot of secrets lately," Ginny pointed out.

"How are we supposed to know that a turban isn't in your immediate future?" Ron asked, right on the heels of Ginny's observation. Harry and Hermione might have rehearsed, but the other two were not only of the same mind, but siblings to boot. Fred and George took being in sync with each other to an extreme, but that didn't mean that to some extent their siblings couldn't achieve something similar.

Harry shot him a wry expression. "While my sense of fashion may not be the best, I think that we both know I couldn't pull off the turbaned look. Though," he added, adopting an overly dramatic and pensive expression, "Perhaps that would be a good way to get my hair to lie flat." Hermione, without blinking, or even looking, punched him in the arm.

"Motion denied," she said simply, exercising the right of all women dating whipped men: the ability to pick and choose their boyfriend's clothing.

"Right," Harry continued with a nod, "no turbans. Anyway, Ron, Ginny, I don't quite see the issue here. If it's the secrets that have been kept, then you're fully read in and that should no longer be a problem. Unfortunately, it still is, which leads me to believe its more than just no knowing."

"I had no idea that you were so thick, Harry," Ron said with a sneer. "What, precisely, is so difficult to wrap your head around: I don't care to associate myself with creatures, especially those who lie about it and pretend as if they're fully human."

"Bullshit," Hermione countered calmly. "It would be a good excuse, Ronald, if you were Malfoy, but you're not. Just what exactly were you planning on telling Hagrid, or Professor Lupin, when you started treating them like shit? Or are werewolves and giants, even a half giant, somehow not the same as vampires and Amazons?"

"It's not like either of them had a choice," Ginny butted in. "Or did you think Lupin somehow had some control over who Greyback chooses to savage, or that Hagrid had control over his parents?"

"So it's the choice, is it?" Harry asked steely eyed. "Because you think that no one would choose to become something 'other' if given the chance, and therefore Hermione and I must be twisted in the head like dear old Tommy boy."

Ron nodded, looking smug. "Maybe living with muggles for so long has left this fact unclear, but Vampires are dangerous, violent, and bloodthirsty creatures."

"And werewolves aren't?" Hermione retorted sharply.

"For one night every lunar month, against their will, and with Wolfsbane it's a moot point," Ginny chimed in.

"So we, Amazons and Vampires, made 'other' by choice, are more dangerous, violent, and bloodthirsty than werewolves and giants because there is nothing to instantly cut out everything that makes us 'other' and make us as placid as a muggle on Xanax?" Hermione questioned, seemingly calm, but her voice held a dangerous edge to it.

An instant later, it was obvious that she shouldn't have used the muggle drug reference. "Xanax?" Ron mouthed, confusion etching deep frown lines across his forehead.

Ginny shared his confusion, but appeared to be better at using her context clues to know that it wasn't important that she know what Hermione was talking about to get the gist of the question. "A werewolf, for example, would want to take such a potion, whereas you would not," she asserted.

"So, because we choose to be fully what we are at all times, rather than spend twenty-nine days of the month pretending it's not an issue and then chaining ourselves to a wall for the remaining day of the month, we're more dangerous and violent and bloodthirsty?" Hermione asked.

"The difference between a vampire and a werewolf is not that the werewolf is the fuzzier, nicer creature," Harry stated flatly, continuing on where Hermione had left off. "A vampire and a werewolf may be an evenly matched fight, but of the two the werewolf is the more vicious, bloodthirsty, and dangerous. The difference being that we own who we are, and are fully in control at all times. There is no sudden, unstoppable transformation. There is no waking up and not knowing what the beast within did while it had control. There is no heart-wrenching guilt. There is no feeling of helplessness. How many people do you think newly bitten werewolves accidentally kill or turn? How many do you think kill themselves because they can't live with who they are? How many of them do you think spend years denying something that is now so intrinsic to who they are, and hating themselves every moment?

"Having certain powers because you're a magical creature is no different than having certain powers because you can wave a stick through the air and make something happen. Power is power, and all power needs the same basic conditions to use it. Firstly, the ability. Second, the mindset. Some spells you can't even cast while angry, and some spells won't work unless you are. Mentality is everything in this world of magic. Hell, mentality is everything even in the muggle world. If you're angry or upset about something, how likely is it that those feelings will leak into the other areas of your life, that it will make you snappish and unpredictable in temper even to people who don't deserve it? A werewolf doesn't have powers only when the moon is full and they've lost their mind. An angry, and human, werewolf could easily kill someone without meaning to if they were angry enough. Angry at what doesn't matter. Part of lycanthropy is the nearly crippling amount of emotion that comes with the burden of being a werewolf. It's why people call it a curse. Any unhappy person is unpredictable. A werewolf's natural aggression will turn even the most passive man towards violence, even while in human form. As a beast, they are bloodthirsty and unreasonable. They're incredibly dangerous, wouldn't you both agree?"

"Vampires have weaknesses," Hermione continued the narrative, "but becoming one is a choice. There is no curse if you choose it, and everything has a weakness. It is no different than being an Amazon. We are content to be what we are, and that in and of itself lends a stability to our thoughts and actions that would be lacking if we were not content. A vampire of Amazon loses control in the same way a human does: by becoming repeatedly agitated over harassment of some sort. Could you not say, Ronald, that in second year you lost control of your temper and emotions and tried to curse Malfoy into burping slugs?"

"Great, so your killing sprees are premeditated then," Ron said, derision dripping from every word.

"We choose to use our skills in the same way that anyone chooses to use any of their skills. Whether it be you trying to decide if a situation warrants the use of magic, or the use of fists, you make a choice about how to, if you even do, employ any skills that you possess to assist you in that moment. We do no differently, even if our skill set is slightly altered from that of yours."

"If this is all about choice, Harry," Ginny spat, interrupting the green-eyed boy in front of her without a thought. He was starting to sound a bit too much like Dumbledore for her taste anyway; they both were. "Then explain to me, explain to us, why suddenly you chose to keep us in the dark. Tells us why you decided that not all of your friends were good enough to be kept in the loop. Tell us what made _her_ better than everyone else. Because all I see is that she, too, made a choice to become something different than she was. I am a witch, and I'm damned proud of it. I want to be no more and no less than that, because it is what I am and what I was born to be. Can she say the same? You said yourself that malcontent leads to unpredictability and violence. Your choices, the both of you, only say that you weren't happy with what you were meant to be, and took fate into your own hands. And that's pitiful."

The expression on Harry's face was murderous and Hermione looked as if she'd just been slapped, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. "Perhaps it's pitiful," he said eventually, causing the smug smirk of triumph to spread across Ginny's face, "but not at all for the reasons you assume." Taking pity on his girlfriend, he reached out to place his hand calmingly on her knee, trying with all his might not to grip too tightly. It was an extraordinary feat, given that the rest of his body was nearly stiff with tension. "I have been given an impossible task, Ginny. Voldemort is incredibly powerful, and his resources are better than they should be," he continued, ignoring the slight shudders from the Weasleys. "And a seventeen year-old wizard is supposed to be able to defeat him. A wizard who has only minimal training, who grew up in the muggle world, who has been sheltered and coddled and treated like glass his entire life. It is not that I was unhappy with myself, and so I took Celdere's offer to change what I was; it is that I had a goal and no means to accomplish it, and Celdere offered it. She offered support, resources, training. She offered me the power to make my life what I wanted. Without those things, I cannot win. And if I played this game Dumbledore's way, I'd be dead already."

"Dumbledore just wants what's best for you, Harry, don't be thick," Ron said hotly.

"Sure he does," Harry agreed easily. "But he refuses to give me what's best for me. What's best for me is for Voldemort to be dead, my parents and Sirius to be alive, and for there to be no prophecy over my head. The prophecy has taken away the options, and has made it so that the only thing that is best for me is the thing that keeps me alive. Dumbledore's way might keep me warm and fuzzy, but it sure doesn't keep me alive. Death Eaters attacked me this summer, and the Order didn't come to my rescue. The vampires did, and the kicked butt. They kept me alive, not the Order. And so they, as hard as it is for you to get, are the right choice."

"Great, blame it on Dumbledore and the prophecy. That works for you, I suppose." Ron gave a shrug, as if that was supposed to sum it all up. "But that doesn't explain Hermione and it doesn't explain the secrets. That was July, Harry, and it's April."

"I wasn't going to tell anyone, Ron," Harry admitted. The redhead's eyes bulged in shock and anger. "If it wasn't necessary, and it wasn't until the Hogsmeade attack, then why would I want to expose myself to this kind of treatment and criticism? I knew how you all would react: you'd have treated me like a leper, exactly as you have now. It wasn't worth the pain to let you in on the secret. The only reason Hermione knows, actually, is because a group of vampires discovered the Amazon encampment and she recognized me. And the only reason she didn't treat me like I had some contagious disease was because she found herself in the same boat. We're different than we were at the end of last year, Ron, both of us. And neither of us felt comfortable telling anyone about it. That we ended up doing so with each other was an accident."

"That's not to say that it was not a fortunate accident," Hermione asserted softly, finding her voice at last. "We are more effective working together than separately but towards the same end. That is why we merged with the Order. Alone, the vampires have no political clout. Alone, the Amazons must remain hidden and secret. Alone, the Order is largely ineffective and unwilling to do what must be done to end this war. Together, we make an influential group more effective, and lend trained fighters to the ranks. This is war. What Harry and I have done to ourselves, and our lives, may not be pretty, or pleasant, but it had to be done, because otherwise we were getting nowhere. Accept that or not, it's your choice."

Ron and Ginny searched the faces in front of them. Both were hard and grim, but their eyes spoke of regret. Ron, with his love of chess and strategy, understood where they were coming from, and that, if anything, made it worse.

"Fine," he said, giving them both a curt nod as he stood and walked from the room. Ginny looked after him, stunned, for a moment before following suit. Harry and Hermione were equally shocked; while they hadn't forgotten the door was there, as Ginny had seemed to, they had not expected such an abrupt end to the meeting, nor one with no conclusion.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow if that's fixed," Hermione observed, placing her hand gently on the hand Harry still had placed on her thigh. The muscles under her hand were still tense, but with a smile she noted that he appeared to be making sure he wasn't gripping too tightly.

"Let's head to bed early, love," she purred, tracing an aimless pattern from the back of his hand and up his wrist. "We've done enough for today."

Harry wasn't entirely ready to quit, and she could tell, but he nonetheless recognized the truth in her words. There was no more that could be done with Ron and Ginny that night, and with an evening of arguing, and the morning, with Daphne's offer, had been eventful in it's own way. It was probably better to quit now, while they were, at the very least, not losing.

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**AN:** So, funny story, right. I'd noticed that I'd been spending an awful lot of time on one of my other stories (a Hermione/Minerva piece, for those of you who haven't yet read Battered and Bewildered (beware of femmeslash)) and decided I wanted to switch gears to get back to writing this. And so I clicked on the link to see what I had last posted, and realized that it was _definitely_ not the last thing I remembered writing. I remembered writing entire scenes. I remembered everything with Daphne, and even tossing Ron and Ginny into the RoR. But I hadn't posted it. Needless to say, I've been feeling rather silly for days. Surprisingly, I found it much easier to finish and post a chapter that I'd already mostly written already. Hope you enjoyed it, and my sincerest apologies for the wait. I've no idea what exactly happened to this that made it fall through the cracks...


	19. Events in Motion

The Vampire Prince

Chapter 19: Events in Motion

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Bellatrix stormed through the corridors of the dilapidated castle that Voldemort had chosen to make his headquarters, wand grasped tightly in hands and itching to throw a curse at someone. As smug and happy as she was going to be when this war was over and she was on the winning side, having been able to be a person who was pivotal to the success of the "Light" side, it was, and had been for a while, grating most severely on her nerves that she was back in the service of the Dark Lord and had a part to play. She hadn't used to mind so much, playing subservient to him even though she was his better, but now that things had changed and she had quit, she found it less fun than usual to keep up the game, even if the benefit was not having to hold back all of her nasty emotions.

Although, at this particular point in time, it was beginning to seem like that benefit wasn't even existent. Though she was still favored above the others, and still feared more than respected by those of lower rank and even those of t he Inner Circle, the Dark Lord had noticed that after her 'kidnapping' she had been more violent and cruel, and had bade her, with what might as well have been an order, to keep a reign on her temper when amongst allies. It made cursing their brains out very, very difficult, as far as she had experienced.

It didn't, however, prevent her from firing off several nasty hexes and curses at the bare stone walls as she made her way out of the complex, or completely roasting a tree as she walked past it. In fact, the walls bore faint scorch marks already, as a testament to her passage, and the forest surrounding the property was beginning to thin, bit by bit. She didn't usually leave the castle, as frequent absences with no tortured muggles brought back as souvenirs would raise suspicions, and since she was a wanted woman there was hardly anywhere for her to be going that was not 'work' related. Today, however, she finally had a reason to leave, aside from needing to before her wand 'slipped' and someone met with a very unfortunate accident that she would certainly get punished for later.

She checked carefully to make sure she still had the ever-so-precious piece of parchment in her hand as she passed the wards and then spun on her heel to disparate with a sharp crack.

The castle she re-appeared in was not nearly as dismal and infuriating as the one she had just left, and almost against her will she found herself relaxing. Here, the people in the hallways looked at her with respect, but no fear, and she didn't feel tempted to curse any of them. How much of that was her personality, and how much of that was the effect of the role slipping away, she had no idea, but she liked to think it an indicator that she had made the right choice. Maybe it was just the sense that she would have to actually put some effort in if she wanted to just open fire on the people here that made her suddenly restrained, but still, she liked to think it was more than that. It was the small amount of romanticism that still remained in her belief system.

She strode, as always, without invitation into Celdere's throne room. These days, the woman was in constant conversation with her advisers, thinking up battle plans and rearranging supplies and discussing correspondence and intelligence, but these days, Bella no longer felt any sort of qualm about interrupting, despite the glare Celdere sent her way every single time. She was a Black, yes, and she had been taught courtly manners from an early age, but time under Voldemort, and in Azkaban, had robbed her of the slight inclination she had to follow such manners. Besides, it wasn't like the queen hadn't ever had to handle someone who was somewhat uncouth before.

"I have it," she announced triumphantly, words drowning out the current conversation about how to circumvent the UN's sanctions on a thing in a place that Bella really wasn't at all concerned about. Conversation stopped, Celdere flashed her the expected glare, but the look mellowed almost instantly into one of anticipation.

"Your cover remains in place, I trust?" the queen inquired, holding out a hand for the piece of parchment that Bella had yet to even withdraw from her pocket. The condescension in the enquiry was almost enough to make her want to keep the secret to herself, but that was hardly productive, and so she grudgingly gave it up to the other woman.

"It does. People are too afraid of me to question when I decide to 'supervise' the lower level Death Eaters," she said dismissively, "and Voldemort isn't smart enough to know that paper can be intercepted, or smart enough to think anyone would dare intercept it. And a memory charm makes sure that no one remembers I was there when it goes missing." It was like taking candy from a baby, but she didn't mention that.

The queen was hardly listening anyway, fully focused on the paper before her and the words written upon it, before she passed it to one of the ever-present advisors. "It will take some time before we can get things fully into motion," she told the false Death Eater.

Unsure of what else to say to that, Bella simply nodded.

Celdere caught and held her gaze. "Thank you," she said simply. "This may completely change everything."

Bella nodded again, the gesture more curt than before, and spun on her heel to leave the room.

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Harry absently gave the owl a piece of bacon for a reward as he unfolded the letter it had brought him, his name written on the outside in Celdere's distinctively old-world script. Idly, he wondered what the older woman could want; things had been relatively quiet lately from pretty much everyone. Without really thinking about it, his eyes slid down the table to where Ron was sitting with Seamus and Dean, and then to the Slytherin table where Daphne was engaged in conversation with Tracy Davis. Things with Ron and Ginny had calmed down, more in Ron's case than in Ginny's, but even though things had been patched up didn't meant that things were entirely back to normal. For the moment, Ron was content to continue spending most of his time with Dean and Seamus and Harry and Hermione were for the most part content to let it remain that way. Small victories were easier to achieve, and at the very least there was no longer any sort of animosity in their relationship. Perhaps it was even better in the long run that Ron start to find a way to spend his time outside of the Trio, given that Harry and Hermione were a couple and tended to make him the third wheel. However, things with Daphne had remained much the same. The Slytherin was still just as much a mystery and unknown as she had been previously, and though they desperately wanted to test her, neither Harry nor Hermione had managed to come up with the perfect thing. However, scanning the letter Celdere had sent him, he was forced to admit that perhaps they were going to have to skip the testing stage of the relationship and move right to the heart of the matter.

Casually, he took a look at the other piece of parchment that had come with the letter. That, he recognized instantly, had not been written in Celdere's hand, as it was an untidy scrawl that was legible, but only just. However, at that moment it seemed much more grandiose than it truly was, all because of the information that it contained. His eyes roved the hall once more; this time his gaze rested primarily on the High Table. Unfortunately, there was no good way to flag Dumbledore down for a meeting, but that hadn't stopped him before, and besides, he had some amount of time to consider how to go about it. By the time he had taken careful note, Hermione had finished scanning Celdere's note and had passed it to Morgan, eyes coming to focus on Harry the instant it left her hands. Giving her a hesitant smile, he passed the parchment in his hand to her, watching as she read it very deliberately before folding it in half and passing it to Morgan, who opened it incredulously.

"Now what?" she asked, speaking for the first time during the entire exchange.

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore, obviously, and then after that…" he trailed off, unsure of precisely what to do next.

"Some sort of strike will be made," Hermione pointed out. It was obvious, but the statement served to remind them all that they would be taking part in this as adults, rather than staying home like children.

"But how we'll spread our resources while doing so has yet to be determined," Harry countered. His girlfriend conceded his point with a nod. Harry chanced another glance at the High Table only to find that it appeared Dumbledore, with his somehow magical omnipotence, was looking his direction. Harry casually tilted his head to the side, gesturing without words towards the Entrance Hall, receiving a slight raise of a water goblet in return.

"We're going to be late for class," Hermione pointed out, not watching Dumbledore or looking anywhere near the High Table, but knowing Harry well enough to know how the exchange had gone based solely off of his facial expressions. Harry gave her a wry grin, but shrugged and stood. They all knew he wasn't particularly fussed about missing class, and he also knew that they would get a note and everything would be just fine in the end. Giving an unhappy sigh, Hermione stood and followed him from the hall with a small exasperated look at Morgan, who made no move to follow them. Through unspoken agreement they both headed straight towards the Headmaster's office, expecting him to catch up to them there, potentially with his wife in tow.

They weren't disappointed. Only a few minutes after they had given the password to the gargoyle and had arrived in the small hall outside Dumbledore's office the grating of stone stairs reached their ears, and the two professors stepped from the stairs. As if responding to the Headmaster's presence, the door to his office swung open gently and all four moved inside without discussion, the door swinging shut just as soundlessly as it had opened. Only then was any conversation began.

"First things first, I suppose," Harry announced, placing Celdere's letter on the Headmaster's desk. Minerva, he noted, was uncharacteristically perched on the arm of Dumbledore's chair, rather than having conjured herself up another, most likely wooden and straightbacked, but it made it so that they could both read the letter at the same time. With a small gesture, she summoned the paper and held it so that Albus could also see it, and they began to read.

"How on earth did you manage to get that?" was the first question when they had finished reading, and Harry produced the piece of paper with the Fideleus on it.

"A source," was the simple answer, causing Minerva to purse her lips and a slight frown to mar her features. Dumbledore, on the other hand, simply took it in stride.

"Excellent," he said, eyes sparkling behind his half-moon glasses. His wife shot him a slightly incredulous look, obviously concerned over the fact that he didn't appear to be worried that the two teens were keeping information from them.

"That slip is yours to keep until the next Order meeting," Harry informed him, "And you are free to distribute the secret to whomever you think best. I do ask, however, that the paper remain intact, as not everyone has been given the chance to see it." Most importantly, the Amazons.

"And after that?"

Hermione shrugged. "We will need to meet, obviously, and figure out our precise strategy. This information is relatively new, and while I'm sure that Celdere is already hard at work to come up with something, we will all need to contribute to make sure it is the best plan for everyone and that it uses our resources efficiently."

"So this will all be over, one way or another, soon?" Minerva breathed, awe in her voice.

"Voldemort has no idea we have this secret, so yes, we're going to do our best make this strike count for something," Harry responded firmly. "After all, the best element of attack is the element of surprise."

"And you'll not say anything more about your source?" Minerva pressed, curiosity getting the better of her. Instantly, both of her students turned to stare at her, the slightest smirk gracing Harry's features.

"Who they are isn't as important as what they've learned," Hermione said dismissively, and Minerva didn't press the issue, perhaps somehow knowing better than to press any further than she already had.

"Obviously it'd be a good idea to call a meeting soon," Harry pointed out, "and it's probably best that all parties involved have a concrete plan, or at least a definite list of resources, ready to bring to the table." His glance didn't only drift to the professors on the other side of the desk, but also to Hermione. Though the pair of them were far more coordinated, and discussed the matters more frequently, than the Order was with anyone else, it didn't mean that the reminder didn't apply to all of them. For his part, he knew that Celdere would be more than adequately prepared, and while it was likely that Hermione would be excessively prepared as well, it couldn't hurt to put the reminder out there.

"I will see to it that we have, at the very least, something to work with by then," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "And I'll inform you when I can next get everyone together." Order meetings, Harry thought, were by far too difficult to schedule. He supposed that was the drawback to volunteer armies; neither the Amazons nor the vampires needed to worry about scheduling. If it worked for the leaders, it worked for everyone else.

"Then it's probably best we get to class, before we're missed," Hermione said, acknowledging Dumbledore's statement with a nod.

"Of course," he said, waving his hand to summon a blank piece of parchment as he drew a violently purple quill from the inkpot on his desk. The soft sound of the quill scratching against the parchment filled the office for a brief moment, leaving them in not uncomfortable silence. Minerva used the opportunity to curiously survey them over the rims of her square spectacles while the two students tried to carefully ignore her gaze. No doubt she was still wishing she knew the identity of their mysterious informant, but neither of them were foolish enough to think letting her in on the secret was anything other than incredibly stupid.

"Thank you Professors," Harry said, rising as the piece of parchment was slid across the table and the purple quill was returned to the inkpot. Both favored the students with small smiles, Minerva's no more than a slight upward twitch at the corners of her mouth, which faded as the door closed behind them.

"The curiosity is bothering you immensely, isn't it, my dear?" Dumbledore asked his wife, the slightest hint of laughter in his voice. Unfortunately, her ears caught it and she directed an irritated glare in his direction as she rose from her perch on the arm of his chair.

"Indeed," she responded crisply. A pause, and then, "Who on earth could be getting them that information? Voldemort has been keeping such things incredibly close to the vest, and there's no way a casual spy could have gotten so close to be able to slip it out." The words were tinged slightly with frustration.

"I'm sure in time we will know the answer," Albus responded, in what was supposed to be a soothing manner, but really did nothing but cause a slight flare of her frustration, her eyes flashing as she pinned him with another glare.

"I'm sure in time we will," she ground out, "but whether that time will be soon enough to make a difference, should this prove to be more dangerous than anyone thinks, remains to be seen."

Not disagreeing, Albus didn't respond. Besides, the only thing he really could contribute to the conversation at that point was a joke about cats and curiosity or, as the conversation turned further from curiosity and more towards concern, one about mother hens, or lionesses. Neither reference, he knew, would really be appreciated by the woman in front of him.


End file.
